


Heat Wave

by lady_snow



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Alpha/Omega, F/M, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 90,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_snow/pseuds/lady_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where most of the ATP tour are Alphas, no one knows that the most heralded tennis player in the world is an Omega.</p><p>When Roger forgets to take his heat-suppressant and goes into to heat mid-tournament while Mirka is away, she swallows her pride and possessive instincts and asks for help from one particular alpha, Andy Roddick.</p><p>What happens afterwards will send all of their lives into a tailspin they may not recover from.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure anyone ever did Omega-Alpha verse in tennis RPS. I had a bunny and ran with it. If stuff like heats and knots squeak you, stay away.

That fucking, fucking phone. Andy rolled over to the other side of the bed, and groggily reached out for his cell. Who the fuck was calling him during a tournament at that hour? Andy’s frown deepened at the sight of Mirka’s name. She wasn’t even IN the tournament, having twisted her leg earlier this month, and apparently was resting in Switzerland. Odd. He and Roger weren’t on big on phone chatting, never mind Mirka and him. “Mirka?” He answered.  
“Andy. Thank God. Look, I’m sorry for waking you.” her voice was anxious.  
“What’s up?” He sat in bed.  
She signed. “Look, I’m going to trust you with something now, because I need your help. You won’t hurt him, and you’ll keep it a secret.”

“Hurt him? Hurt who? Look, I was asleep 10 seconds ago, so maybe it’s me, but I don’t get what you’re talking about.”  
“Look. Roger needs your help, and I need you to go and help him. Right now.”  
Andy frowned. “What, did he hurt himself or something?” Why are you calling me. He wanted to ask.  
She sighed. “Look. Andy. It’s not that- “ She sighed again and said in a low voice.. “Andy. He forgot to take his heat-suppressants.”  
Andy blinked. Once and twice. Because he didn’t know, and he couldn’t imagine anything more shocking. Top athletes were almost never Omegas, lots and lots of Alphas, like himself. More than a few betas. Rarely Omegas, and he’s never known any omega to make it to the very top of his sport. He couldn’t think of an Omega tennis player in the top 100. The fact that Roger was an omega, hence the need to take heat suppressants, was unimaginable, and made everything the man had accomplished in the past decade even more impressive. Well shit. He knew Roger wasn’t an Alpha, but he always thought he was a Beta.  
Mirka didn’t have patience with him. “Andy, did you hear me?!”  
“Yeah.” He coughed. “I just needed a moment to recover. I had no idea Roger was an Omega. Jesus effing christ. How is it possible, exactly? How come no one knows?””

“Look, we don’t advertise it.” She sighed.”It would make him too vulnerable for all kind of sabotage. There are ways to counter heat-suppressants these days.”  
Andy wiped at his face. “Wait a minute. Did you say he FORGOT to take them? You mean he’s having a HEAT? Now? In the middle of the tournament, while you’re gone?. Mirka, he’s going to attract every red-blooded alpha around! There isn’t exactly a shortage.”  
Her voice was tight. “I know how heats work, thanks. I’m an Alpha too. They will flock to him like bees to a flower.”  
“Like lions to a nice Swiss Goat, you mean.” Andy muttered.  
Mirka groaned. “Look, he’s in the penthouse in the same hotel as you. You have to go to him and help him, make sure no one does anything to him, I trust you. He’d take emergency heat-counters but it’s a banned substance due to the testosterone. We barely got the usual suppression cleared. Pierre is an omega, as well, Severin is a beta. I don’t know who else to ask for help. He needs an ALPHA and I’m an ocean away!” Her voice was desperate.”I can’t get there before tomorrow night. He’d never make it this long.”  
Andy swallowed, and when he spoke, his voice was careful. “Mirka. There is only one way that *I* know to take the edge of a full-blown heat without emergency suppressants. Do you know what you’re asking me?”

Her voice was resigned. “I’m not stupid, Andy. Of course I know what I’m asking. But an omega who was on heat suppressants going through a heat is horrible, it’s like withdrawal, he could lose his mind, embarrass himself publicly, or worse. He’ll die of shame. When he called me five minutes ago he was in agony. I can’t let it happen to him, I can’t. Go help him, I don’t care about anything else.”  
Andy’s mouth was dry.”Does he even like men?” He noticed she hasn’t bothered to ask him whether he did.

Mirka snorted. “He likes *me*. And that’s a stupid question, Andy. He’s bisexual like every Omega male. Tell me right now if you’re going, if not I’m going to have to start thinking of an alternative.”  
He was silent for a moment. “You’re going to have to give me explicit permission, Mirka. You know how the new laws work. The consent of an Omega in heat is nothing, but a mate or a family member can consent for them.”   
She let out a choked breath. “Do you want an engraved invitation to fuck my husband? Look. I told Roger him I’m sending you. He was still lucid at this point to object and he didn’t. Look, I made a judgement call. Go up there now, and call me right afterwards. Do whatever you need to do.”  
Andy snorted, in spite of himself. “I’m going to fuck your husband, and you want me to call you post-coital?”  
Mirka’s voice turned cold. “I want you to make sure he’s fine, Andy, and to tell me that mission was accomplished, so I wouldn’t worry sick about him. I’m taking a flight and will be there tomorrow night. You need to help him until I get there, do you hear? I don’t want any details, I just want to know you got it done.”  
He groaned. “Why me? Why not Tommy, they’re close and he’s an alpha.” Heck. He was gay, and if he could choose between Tommy and himself, he’d choose Tommy, too.  
“Because we are all close, because Tommy isn’t gay, and because Sara would have a hissy fit. I don’t want to put out friendship through the strain of either of them refusing, or to put pressure on them.

You had to admire the woman, Andy thought, as he got off bed, most Alphas would freak out over anyone touching their mate, but Mirka’s first concern was Roger. She was certainly different. Same way Roger was. No wonder they meshed so well.  
”I hear you. And I’m going.” He paused. “Anything in particular I should... know?”  
Mirka was silent for a moment. “I’m sure you can handle yourself. Look. I know how instinctive it is to be rough during a heat. I won’t ask you to be gentle, and he’s not going to want that, either. Just don’t hurt him, try not to leave marks and - “  
Andy interjected. “No way I can promise that, you know I can’t. It doesn’t work like that, I - I won’t have full control”  
Mirka’s breath stopped. “Just don’t bite. You know why. And no bruising that people can see..”

Andy swallowed, and felt himself hardening at once. He’s never fucked an omega during a heat. Mirka said. “Just don’t forget that he’s mine, Roddick.” Her voice finally broke. ‘Take care of him, and don’t forget to call.” She hung up.  
  
It took him all but five minutes to take the elevator up to the penthouse floor, and two floors away, his senses were already attacked by the scent. Deep and rich and pungent. The smell of an Omega deep in the throes of heat. Shit. He tried to calculate how many alpha players were at the top stories of the hotel, and what are there chances there wouldn’t be a crowd by his door by the time he got there. Alpha male tennis players used to take stuff to avoid a reaction to a heat, because you never know when it would strike you, and no one wanted a rape charge. it was similar to suppressants Omega used, but they had side effects, especially for athletes, and these days, most omegas just controlled their heats, there was no need for an alpha to take preventive measures.  
  
When he got to the top floor, his eyes widened. Rafa and Novak were there, of course- they both stayed at the top floor. The scent had to have reached them. Novak was fighting Rafa to get through the door, and Rafa was using force to keep him out. Novak’s eyes were crazed with lust. He was younger than Andy, and those years made a difference, it made the pull even stronger.   
There was also something unique about the scent of an omega you didn’t like, it made one even more eager to conquer, to dominate and to mark, and Novak did not like Roger. Fucking hell. The urge to claim must be unbelievably strong.  
When Rafa saw him, he tensed further. Obviously, Rafa knew him to be an alpha and was unsure of his motives. Rafa was a beta, this wasn’t a secret. So he should be unaffected.   
How come, in a tour full of alphas, the top two, for as long as he could remember, were a beta and an omega? It was strangely ironic.

As he advanced, Andy was assaulted by the scent of Roger. It was choclate and musk and FuckFuckFuck. He was harder than a rock and aching already. He had to brace himself on a wall. “Novak.” He said to the serb, cursing himself for the catch in his voice. “Get out of here.”  
Novak looked at him dazedly, still held between Rafa’s arms. “He’s in heat.”  
“Yeah. I know. That’s what forgetting to take suppressants would do to an Omega. Get out of here, you’ll hate yourself in the morning. You don’t like each other at all, it would be as good as rape, so get the fuck out.”  
Novak sneered. “Why are you here, then. To guard his door? You don’t have enough control for that, Roddick. Take a good whiff, the air is thick with him, plus - he needs it. I can hear him moaning in there. He needs an alpha.”

“Mirka sent me.” Andy said shortly. “To make sure alphas like you won’t fall over himself trying to *Help* him with what he supposedly *needs*”. Back off Novak. Honestly, man. You’re going to hate yourself in the morning. You’re not thinking with your head. You’ll get yourself banned from the tour.”

He looked at Rafa. “Raf, can you take Novak to my rooms?” He took the key out of his pocket. “It’s far enough so he wouldn’t smell him inside the room.”  
Rafa nodded, relieved. “Mirka really call you?”  
“Yeah. What are you doing here, Rafa? You’re not an Alpha.”  
Rafa flushed. “It’s strong enough, even I can smell him. Andy - he’s not... Novak’s not wrong, he needs - help.”  
At that moment, a clear and broken moan came through the door, along with a fresh wave of a scent so arousing, Andy could feel himself dripping in his shorts. He balled his hand into a fist,. His fingernails, short and clipped, stuck into the flesh of his hand. It was good, he tried to use the pain to ground him, to keep the fog of arousal away. To resist the urge to burst through the door and fuck Roger Federer to the ground as hard as he could.  
Novak, whose eyes practically rolled back, let out a feral growl and made another charge at the door. Andy and Rafa both grabbed him, holding him back as he struggled to get through the door. “Rafa, take him below already!” Together, they overpowered the Serb, and shoved him into the elevator.

Rafa used all of his body mass to hold Novak back, and looked at Andy with round eyes as the door closed.

  


Fuck. His mouth tight with determination, Andy headed toward the door. He closed his eyes, braced himself, and got in, immediately locking the door behind him. Inside, the scent of Omega in heat was thick enough for him to lick and swallow. Christ fucking hell. The moment his eyes gotten used to the darkness, he froze. Roger was on the bed, naked. sweaty, writhing. On all fours. Moaning as he grinded against the mattress helplessly. Fuck. He was tied up to the bed with a pair of handcuffs. What the hell?

“Roger.” Andy croaked.  
Roger turned his to him, the iris of his eyes dilated with heat-induced lust. “Andy?” His voice was shaky.  
Andy banged his head back against the door, trying to achieve some sort of control, because what he really wanted to do was to take off his shorts and shove himself into the Swiss in under five seconds. His legs felt like jello. “L-look.” His mouth was dry. “Mirka sent me to help you through this. I don’t know what you think about that, exactly. If you want me to leave - if you want to tell me to leave I will, but this needs to be right fucking now Rog. I can’t take it. You smell too good. I don’t have that much control.”  
Roger let out a voice that was between a sob and an moan. “Please.” He groaned.”Please. Andy, please, touch me. I can’t, I can’t anymore. I burn all over.”  
Yeah. Okay. So Roger was far gone enough to make a reasonable discussion out of the question, he had no free will but the needs of his treacherous body. So that wasn’t good as far as consent went. But, then again, he was sent here by Mirka, and the consent of an Omega’s mate was worth something. It was worth more than any consent an Omega in heat could have ever given.

How long ago since Roger had his last heat? Months? Years?

Andy had no idea.  
He approached the bed, carefully, like he would to a skittish kitten, and took a good look at Roger. He was flushed, burning with his heat, his lower lip was bleeding from where he probably bit on it, and Andy could also see blood where the cuffs cut into his skin. “What the hell did you do? ” He asked, horrified. “Roger, where is the key?”  
“Dunno. On the bed somewhere.” Roger choked. “I cuffed myself then threw the key. If I hadn’t, I would have gone out to look fo - . Andy...” He was begging. “Don’t bother looking, don’t care. I need - I need it now. I’ve been like that for hours. Please. Please.”

“If you think I’m fucking you with your hands cuffed to the bed you really have gone mad. Wait.” It didn’t take long for Andy to find the key tucked between a fold of a blanket. For a moment he debated what to do, then moved to sit astride the curve of Roger’s ass. Roger ground hard into the mattress and back against him, keening. “Shhh.” Andy said shortly, and pulled his shirt off quickly. “I got you.”   
His hands shook as he reached to put the key in the hole and turned. The cuffs opened with a click and Roger groaned and hissed as sensation rushed back to his hands who dropped limply on the sides of the bed. The groan was that of pain.   
Andy rubbed the tight shoulders, digging hard into the muscles. Roger shuddered all over at the sensation, and groaned into the bed, rocking his hips, making wrecked sounds. “Please. Please. Please. Just do this. Fuck me already.”  
Andy swore. His shorts tenting with the weight of his erection, he was so fucking hard.He ran his hand down Roger’s sweaty spine to the curve of his small, pale ass. Fuck, but the smell radiating from him was delicious. He slid slightly backwards, and his hand trembled as it rested along the moist cleft. A telling sigh of Omega’s readiness. “Jesus. Can I, Rog?”  
“I don’t know what you’re waiting for.” Roger groaned into the pillow as he spread his legs wide, shamelessly, and thrust back. “Come on.”   
Andy, carefully, pressed in a finger, and watched it sink in without a problem. Roger was so wet and ready for it, his silck was overflowing and Andy let out a startled groan and tore his shorts down, because he was hard and leaking and can’tcan’tcan’t. He pressed in another finger, then curled them to where he knew it would feel good.

Roger shuddered all over and cried out, a needy low cry. He clutched the bed and thrust back. “Andy. fuck the preparation.” He groaned.  “I’m in heat. I don’t need it. Do-Ohhhhh. Don’t force me to beg for it.”  
Andy choked. “Okay. Fuck. Okay. You’ve made your point.” He removed his hand slowly and straddled him. His hard dick nestled in the silck cleft. O-h. My God. Touch, and sensation, and heated skin and rich scent assails his senses.

Roger groaned with relish. He was babbling something, in broken Swiss. Andy bent down, buried his lips in the back of Roger’s neck, and thrust in, not stopping and not letting him time to adjust.   
Roger screamed, no other word for it, as Andy slid into him. He was tight and burning, and Andy choked on a cry. He was losing it, losing it, at how good that felt. How Right. Underneath him, Roger was wild, thrusting against him, whimpering and moaning. Making small, stabbing movements, fighting for even more friction. Andy panted hard as he gave Roger what he had. It was never like that, his nerves were afire.  He spread himself further against the Swiss body, every inch of him crying out for more and more contact. He gripped Roger’s biceps and fucked him hard. “Roger.” He choked out. “God.”

That wet heat engulfing him. Fuck. The man felt good.

Roger keened. It wasn’t even a keen, it was a sob. God, he was like molten lava. Roger shuddered in his arms, head arched back, neck exposed. Andy buried his head there, and sniffed. The scent was shockingly good. Andy never experienced anything like that, ever. Was a heat always like this, or was it just something uniquely Roger’s?  
A more primal part of him longed to bite down on that long, tanned neck. But he had to remind himself Roger belonged to someone else, even if his dick was spearing Roger to the hilt. However, that didn’t stop him from going for Roger’s mouth. Roger tilted his head and sucked on his tongue, and Andy could feel himself swelling further inside him. Roger let out a yell and almost bit down on his tongue.”And-y.” He groaned. “Oh fuck. Yes. So good. You’re huge. Fuck. I feel you so deep. Pound me. Hard.I need it. God, I need it hard.” Andy’s eyes rolled back, because dirty talk always got to him, and from Roger, it was even more arousing. He trembled, and felt his control slipping. “Roger. Fuck. Can-Can you come like that? I can’t- I don’t know how long I can do this.”  
Roger whimpered. “I can - but tou-touch me. It’s too much like this.”  
Andy bit on a swear word. “Come the fuck here then.”.” He sat back on his hunches, grabbed Roger roughly and heaved him on top of him, face to face. He didn’t mean to, but this is how it came out. It was easier, with Roger able to support himself on Andy’s shoulder, but it was hugely intimate.  Roger shuddered as Andy’s cock was embedded deeper inside him, and from the way he shook, and threw his head back, Andy knew he clipped his prostate. ”Oh my God. Yes - God. Right-Right there.God. GOD.”

Andy reached for his cock, and Roger’s head lolled forward on Andy’s shoulder, his entire body spasming. He was fucking himself on Andy’s dick, hard and rough, long fingers stuck in Andy’s shoulders. “Fuck.” Andy groaned. “This feels.”.  
He pinched an erect nipple and moved his palm over the head of Roger’s cock.   
Roger shuddered so much he nearly folded in two, and shot with a cry,contracting around Andy. Sobbing.  
Andy swelled even further inside him. His balls tightened, and he came. Wave after wave after wave. It surged through him like a storm. Never did he come that much, never was sex so good. He had sex with Omegas, but not during a heat. Omega didn’t get heats anymore, not unless they wanted to. With the new suppressants, it was all pretty manageable. The helplessness that came with it was gone. Many Alphas were squirmish about it, too, due to the problematic consent issues when an Omega was having his heat.   
And sex was good enough without it, or so he thought. But this? this was something else. This was sex from another planet, It was this beautiful, blissful relief. Roger smelled heady and Andy could get drunk on that scent forever. He pressed the man to him, and for a moment, he ignored everything he knew about how heats played tricks with the mind of an Alpha. He wanted to hold on to him and not let go.

Roger was dazed and limp in his arms. He buried his face in the crook of Andy’s neck, breathing hard. Nuzzling Andy slightly, oblivious to the world. Touching as much as possible was a must.  
They both opened their eyes at the same moment, the moment Andy realized he wasn’t getting softer, quite the opposite, in fact, and he groaned at the sensation.   
Roger frowned as his eyes widened. “Andy, Why do you feel bigger-Oh. OH.”  
“Shit.” Andy gasped. “Um. Okay. You knew that was going to happen, right? Male Alphas mating with Omegas in heat equal Knots.” He inhaled and exhaled, trying not to move, even though he wanted to. Fuck, he wanted too. “Christ. It’s odd. It’s because you’re in heat. Shit, it never happened to me before. Fucking God.”  
Roger shifted on top of him, and let out a choked whimper. “Andy, it’s - huge. Oh God. Take it out.”

“Um. Sort of can’t right now. If I will It’s going to fucking hurt you. We’re locked together. No- don’t fucking get up!”   
Suddenly it occurred to him Roger probably had never even been fucked by a male Alpha. Shit. He touched the man’s face, overwhelmed with the feelings of possessiveness and protectiveness that came along with a heat-induced fuck. “Rog. Did you never do this before? Slept with a guy, with a male Alpha?”  
Roger shook his head rapidly. “I’ve only ever...it’s only been Mirka.” He averted his face, shame flooding him. “Please, I can’t - I don’t want to think of her now. So don’t. Okay?”  
Andy sighed. Roger was shaky and tense in his arms, his eyes were closed shut, trying to adjust to the feeling in him. He could feel himself growing even bigger, and Roger’s face twisted into a harsh wince, he was panting hard.   
“Rog, relax, okay?” Andy said, he placed his hands on Roger’s shoulders, rubbing slowly, trying to get the tension out. “It would be worse if you tighten up.”  
Roger shuddered. “It’s easy for you to say.” He groaned. “You’re not the one with an 9 inch wide hard dick up in him AFTER coming. Oh God. Oh God.” His fingers tightened on Andy’s arms, and he buried his face into Andy’s shoulder.   
Normally, Andy would make some kind of a sarcastic comment, because 9 inch wide was ludicrous, of course, knot or not - and he mentally credited himself for the clever pun - but looking at Roger’s pained expression, he decided that maybe that wasn’t the moment for any jokes.

Roger was hyper-vantilating, his face twisted in pain, as he tried to adjust.“God. Andy, it’s..I can’t. You have to pull out.I can’t stand it.”  
Andy kept on rubbing his shoulders, and tried very hard not to move. “Look, I can’t pull out, Okay? I’m pretty sure you’re deep enough into that heat so it would get better in a moment.” He reached down to stroke him, tenderly, Roger shuddered as he touched him, but immediately hardened under his touch.    
He looked back up, Roger’s face were closed and tight. “Hey Rog. Breath. Oh-Ahh.” Andy bit his lip as Roger contracted around him forcefully, and he could feel his heat and his slick, flowing again.“God.’ Andy whispered, trying not to thrust up as Roger finally arched back, his fingers embedded in Andy’s shoulders. “Rog. You feel...so fucking good. Being in you is - God.” He rocked slightly into him. He was losing his mind. This was suppose to be a favor, a way to help Roger. Not this. Not the greatest sexual experience he ever had. It wasn’t suppose to be this way.  
Roger whimpered.”Andy.” He was panting, his eyes glazed with passion. “No. I don’t...please stop. Please.” His body, however, was rocking on top of him.  
Andy’s face curdled. “Don’t say that.”

“Why the hell not?” Roger snarled.“Saying no it’s all I have left.” He was fighting it, fighting him, even though his body had given up a while ago, he was rotating his hips, undulating on Andy’s dick.  
Andy’s frowned, and his fingers tightened on Roger’s arms, hard, keeping him in place. “You recall I was summoned here by your *wife*, and if it wasn’t me it was someone else, and I don’t want to tell you who was prowling outside, just dying to prove he’s number one in every-fucking-way.”  
Roger visibly blanched, and Andy felt a stab of regret, he didn’t have to tell him that now, he didn’t ask for it. He sighed. “Look, you’re making me feel like I’m forcing you. It’s not a pleasant feeling, especially while you’re squeezing on my dick like there’s no tomorrow. so fucking stop, Please. You’re an Omega in heat and I’m an alpha. So let me fuck this - *need* out of us,  so things can go back to normal, okay? And let me do it properly, so we could enjoy it.”  
Roger’s expression changed to one of surprise, then regret, then shame. He closed his eyes, and nodded, biting on his lower lip. Andy thought it made him look especially young and vulnerable. Carefully, Andy changed their position so that Roger was on his back and he was on top of him. Then he started fucking him, slowly, because his knot didn’t allow any in-out movement. Roger was under him, his eyes closed shut, his face twisted, but he was moaning every time Andy moved, not just from pleasure, but not only from pain.   
Andy was curious how the hell Mirka satisfied that need of his, being well, a woman, but he knew better than to ask, he had a notion or two. He groaned as the tingling in his balls increased again, and lowered his forehead to Roger’s. “Rog.” He groaned, and sped up. “I’m sorry. Have to.”  
Roger let out a cry as Andy started thrusting at the earnest, but his fingers delved into Andy’s back and he brought up his hips to meet his half way. He was burning inside,  and his body demanded more and more. He reached out between them to touch himself, and let Andy’s thrust push him into his own hand.  
Their movement turned sharp and uneven, and Andy groaned into Roger’s neck. “Roger. God. I want to bite you so fucking much.”

Roger groaned, his eyes glazed over, and tilted his head so their mouth and teeth collided. 

They kissed viciously, hungrily, and Andy’s pace intensified, their hips crashed against each other at a frantic pace. Roger moaned, rolling his hips, “Oh. God. Yes, there. So - harder, please harder. Oh God.” then he  arched into his hand with a shout and came again, shuddering all over. Andy felt his second orgasm shooting through him, and he cried out as he came with a shout, collapsing on top of the Swiss.


	2. Chapter 2

Andy came to, startled, at the sensation of an empty bed. His momentary panic was gone when Roger stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a big robe, brushing his wet hair away from his face.  
He froze when he saw Andy sitting in bed, and flushed. Andy looked at Roger warily, waiting for the man to speak.  
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to jump you. I’m sane at the moment.” Roger said miserably. “It’s a good thing you slept, maybe. It won’t be long till I’m starving for sex again.” His voice was bitter, and his eyes were red.  
Andy was silent for a moment, then said. “You okay?”  
Roger sat on the sofa next to the bed, and studied his toes. “Define okay.”  
Andy considered. “Are you hurt? Physically, I mean. This wasn’t gentle.”  
Roger shrugged. “It’s hard to hurt an Omega during a heat, even if the sex is rough.”  
He glanced at Andy. “Look, I’m going to pull out of the tournament, I can’t play in this state, and even if I could - there are rules, this is going to drive people insane.”  
“Fognini is a Beta, he won’t lose it.” He snorted slightly. “Not more than usual, anyway.”  
“Umpire, Ballkids, Crowd...” He shuddered. “You know it can’t happen. My fuckup and I’m paying for it. At least it’s not a slam, I would have died.”  
He curled in two and buried his hands in his face, rocking. Andy frowned, got up from bed, pulled his boxer shorts on and sat next to him. “Hey. What’s wrong? Do you want me to go?”  
Roger shook his head rapidly. “No. I just -” He looked at the floor, then sighed and looked up. “Look, I can control myself for now, but I need - God. I still need you to physically touch me, okay? Otherwise it gets unbearable.”  
Andy stared for a moment, then sat down on the bed, and slung his hand around Roger’s shoulders and rubbed at his neck.”Like that?”  
Roger, his eyes closed, leaned, then sighed. “Oh. Oh...I feel like I itch all over when we’re not touching.” He closed his eyes..”This is mortifying.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. About before. What I said - during. You’re doing me a favor, really.”  
”Yeah, I’m a big philanthrope.” Andy deadpanned. Roger lifted his head in surprise, and Andy was relieved to see him smile a bit. His fingers ghosted on the soft hairs in the back of Roger’s neck, knowing it would feel good. “Do you need me to withdraw from the tournament?”  
Roger shook his head. “No, you’re not playing until tomorrow, and Mirka should be here. I - I don’t know if I can wait for you to go and practice today, though.”  
Andy shrugged. “I’m playing Ferrer, it’s on clay. I can practice for a year and I’m still not going to win this match.”  
Roger grinned a little, and burrowed deeper into Andy. Andy sighed. “Look. I hate to bring it up, but I was suppose to call your wife.”  
Roger let out a bitter snort. “Hi, I just fucked your husband. Twice. And made him come so much the sheets are soaked. Something like that?”  
Andy was startled. “Um, no -”  
Roger looked away. “Don’t worry about it, I already called her.”  
Andy was caught off guard. “You did? Please tell me you didn’t tell her*that*.”  
Roger shrugged miserably. “I didn’t have to. She knows what a heat is. We go through one almost every off season. But not this year, break was too busy. I couldn’t take off a week to spend in bed. That’s why I got like this. It’s been too long. I never normally skip it.”  
His expression was miserable and Andy sighed. “I’m sure she’s not pissed at you.”  
“No, she’s not, and that’s the worse part. She knows I can’t help it so she won’t be mad. If it was any other time she would have killed me.”  
Andy was quiet for a moment. “I probably should be gone by the time she gets back. She’s an Alpha and she’s your mate, this could get ugly, and...well, I got into it with a male alpha once or twice in my life, but never with a female Alpha, and I don’t want to start now.”  
Roger frowned. “She’s the one who asked you to come over.”  
“I’m not worried about HER.” Andy muttered, and Roger turned to him, surprised. Andy glowered at him. “Fuck you. Federer. What, do you think this doesn’t affect me? I’m an Alpha, you get affected when you fuck an Omega in heat, especially when- look, I could get insanely jealous when she arrives. And she’s not going to be rational about this, either. We could have a go at each other, she wouldn’t be able to help it and I won’t either.”  
Roger flushed. “Especially when-what?”  
Andy removed his hand from Roger’s shoulder and stood up. “Forget it.”  
Roger shuddered when Andy removed his hand. “No, tell me.”  
Andy sighed. “Look. I like men anyway. And it’s not like I haven’t looked at you before. Sleeping with you wasn’t exactly a huge hardship, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”  
“It’s the heat, Andy.” Roger said, his tone was soft. “It’s not real. It affects Alphas as much as it affects Omegas.”  
Andy shook his head. “It’s not just the heat. I like you, I sometimes hate you, but normally I like you. I also think you’re attractive. Unfortunately, you’re also married, so that’s a bit of a problem. I wasn’t exactly mortified by the concept of fucking you till smoke rise from your ass.” He smiled bitterly. “Oppps, I guess I forgot to tell your wife that when she called to ask for my help fucking you while she’s gone.” He grimaced. “Probably I should have said something about that.”  
Roger was quiet for a long moment. “I’m sorry.”  
“What the fuck for, Feds? You didn’t know either.” Andy groaned. “Look, I’m going to shower, I’m disgusting. You still okay? you’re beginning to smell like...well, like sex on a plate again.”  
Roger flushed.He was growing more and more uneasy by the moment at the lack of contact, Andy hadn’t touched him for a few minutes now, but he nodded.”Yeah, that’s okay. Go shower.”

Under the hot stream, Andy took a deep breath as he rested his head against the tiles. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His head was everywhere, his emotions were everywhere, and he didn’t know whatever possessed him to admit his feelings for Roger. The one thing he wanted most was to get out of there and go somewhere else. So he wouldn’t have to smell the man, so he wouldn’t want to kiss him, and fuck him. He was getting hard again. He took himself in hand and stroked a little, groaning at that. He was so sensitive.  
After a few strokes, he stopped himself, jerking off was so NOT the thing to do right now.  
He washed the shampoo residue from his hair, wrapped a towel around his waist and got out of the shower.  
He stopped at the door of the master bedroom.  
Roger was curled on the couch,naked, rocking back and forth, sweaty, his face pained.  
“What the fuck. Roger?! you said you were okay.”  
Roger’s expression was almost hateful. “That was before you started jerking off in the shower. I can smell this sort of stuff when I’m in heat, you know? I can smell the arousal, and hear your heart racing, and all those fucking alpha pheromones!” He suddenly stood up, enough for Andy to see how hard he was, painfully hard, and hurled glass of water at his direction. “Was the sex so fucking bad, or what? Why don’t you get out of here, that’s what you really want. I’ll manage from here, don’t fucking bother. I’m sick of your pity fucks.” He was panting, so far away from ‘managing it’ it was absurd.  
Andy ducked the glass which shattered against the wall, his eyes were wide. “Are you insane?!”  
“No.” Roger growled. “I’m in agony, get out. Your presence here is making it worse, there’s no point to you being here if you rather fuck your own hand, unless you just want to torture me now, because that what it feels like when you’re jerking off while I’m dying here! It hurts, don’t you get it?!”  
“Roger, Woah. Woah.” He approached him carefully. Roger’s eyes were dilated and greener than usual, clearly in the throes of another heat wave.“I didn’t jerk off, okay? I started to, but I stopped. I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would - fuck, I didn’t think it would have any affect on you. I didn’t think you’d know. I’m not going anywhere. You should have come in.”  
Roger growled. “Don’t you understand it’s humiliating enough as it is? How guilty it makes me feel? I’m not suppose to want it!”  
Andy swallowed. “Fair point. Can I touch you now without you throwing something else at me?”  
Roger’s eyes were wary and guarded, and he gave no indication he agreed, but Andy approached, and touched Roger’s face. When Roger’s eyes closed almost immediately in a needy, shaky moan, he ran his hands down Roger’s body, causing him to go into a full-body shudder. Fuck, it was hot. How responsive Roger was. A sounds he made coiled the fire in his belly even more and he lowered his head to kiss Roger. Roger groaned whimpered into his mouth helplessly.  
“I jerked off - hmmm - because I was hard.” He bit Roger’s lips. “I was *hard* because I thinking about you. Fucking you, tasting you.” He sucked on Roger’s tongue. “It’s killing me. Because in a day, you’re going back to your fucking wife, like this day never happened, and that doesn’t feel great.” He held Roger tight against him, squeezing on his ass.”Doesn’t mean I’m not going to fuck you where you stand.”  
“Oh God.” Roger groaned, shuddering all over, reacting to Andy’s possessiveness and touch. “Oh. Oh God. Please. Please. Please. Touch me. Fuck me. Just don’t stop.”  
Andy dragged Roger over to the bed and shoved him on it. Then he got on top of him, pushed his legs apart and sank his throbbing dick in all the way, hard and deep. So fucking deep. Roger was wet and hot, but so fucking tight around him. He gasped and made a wrecked sobbing sound as Andy set a brutal pace of withdrawing and plunging, groaning with every thrust. Their hands intertwined together above Roger’s head.”  
“God.” Andy groaned, out of control. “You smell so good. I can’t resist it it, you’re fucking mine, Mine.” His lips were at Roger’s neck, holding, as he rammed Roger against and again.  
Roger arched his neck back with a cry and Andy couldn’t hold back anymore, he clasped his teeth to Roger’s neck and bit, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave a mark. He suckled on the bite, and Roger went mad with it, he clawed at Andy’s back, and Andy knew that technically, it was suppose to hurt, because he was sure Roger had drawn blood. but it only excited him. His orgasm built up fast, and he could feel his knot growing again and so did Roger, who let out a cry. “Sorry.” Andy grunted. “I can’t stop now.”  
“Eh- I didn’t say you should stop. God.God. I’m going to come like that. Oh. God. Andy- the angle, just - harder. Please do this harder.”  
Andy moved Roger’s legs to his shoulder, so he was almost curled to two, and rammed him again. Roger choked a cry, shuddered and came messily between them, his stomach spasming in waves so violent Andy almost lost control of him.  
Andy groaned “Fuck yeah,I’ve never felt anything like this. Oh Jesus. So fucking good.”  
His orgasm hit him maybe a second later and he bit Roger again, even harder this time, seriously losing control. He could feel the muscles of his back writhing as his orgasm coursed through him, hard, turning his spine into burning liquid.  
Roger whined, still in the throws of his orgasm. Andy collapsed on top of him, almost unconscious with the pleasure of it. He was coming endlessly, knot wedged tightly and deep inside Roger, who was contracting around him, driving him crazy and he could feel himself slipping under yet again, and whythefuckwasithappening  
A few moments later he came to foggily, sprawled on top of the Swiss, still deep inside him. Knot not softening even slightly just yet. He felt drunk and shaky, his feelings a jumbled mess.  
He lifted his head to look at Roger. Surprised and a little relieved to find him dead to the world, mouth opened in a sweet-half-pout.  
He buried his face in the crook of the man’s neck, licking him, inhaling on his Omega scent. Then he saw the bite mark. Red and swollen. Thankfully not bleeding. It sobered him up in an instant. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.  
Mirka knew why she had asked him not to bite. Biting was a claiming thing, it enhanced the bond between an alpha and an Omega. Only Roger wasn’t his to claim, and right now the sting of that realization was hard to take, while still buried deeply in the man.  
What was he thinking when he agreed to do that? He never claimed anyone. He never even fucked an Omega during a heat, now he did, twice. and he would have go give him up, just like that, as soon as tomorrow night. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to do that.  
He felt a lump at the base of his throat and he sucked a deep, wet breath. Suffocating the sound against the neck of the sleeping man beneath him. What the fuck has he done to himself? He should have known better. Heats fucked with Alphas as much as the Omegas, and now it was fucking with him, in a huge way.  
He froze when he felt a hand at the back of his neck. “Andy?” Roger’s voice was hoarse and shaky “What’s wron- Oh. OH.” Roger shifted as his returning awareness told him Andy was still in him. He hissed.  
Andy sucked on air as Roger contracted around him and snapped. “Don’t move.” He choked a bit, trying to eliminate the lump from his throat. “And try not - try not to do THAT. I think it’s going to take a while, this time.”  
Roger shivered, wiggling his hips in an unhelpful way, causing them both to groan. “Roger, come on.” Andy groaned. “At least try to be fucking still. You want it to go down, right?”  
Roger sighed, and willed his body to stop moving “Shift to the right. ‘kay? I’m so sensitive there. I can’t like this..”  
Andy supported himself on his hands, and changed the angle a bit. Roger’s sigh of relief was clear. “Oh-yeah. That’s - better.” He melted a little in Andy’s arms, getting comfortable, then fixed his gaze at Andy, his eyes concerned. “I’ve never seen you cry outside of losing a tennis match” He reached out to touch Andy’s cheek. “Was it something I did?”  
Andy twisted his head away, on an instinct. “Don’t do this.”  
Roger flinched away. “Don’t DO this? You’re like - *In me*, stuck in me, but you *recoil* when I touch your face?!”  
“Do you even realize that I bit you?” Andy growled.”I know the heat blocks pain, but I didn’t think it made Omegas so oblivious to what’s going on with them.”  
Roger fell immediately silent at that, and reached to touch his neck, wincing a bit when his fingers ghosted over the bite mark. His eyes widened. “No - I - I don’t remember. Oh.” His forehead crinkled in a frown.”Andy, why the hell would you-”  
“I did it. It’s done.” Andy said miserably. “I warned you I was going to, all you did was arch your neck back and moan like it’s the best suggestion ever made. Had you said no, I might have been able to fight it, but no chance like that. No chance at all.Biting is an Alpha instinct, like you getting wet when I knot you is an Omega instinct. ” He knew he was being hurtful on purpose, but who the fuck said life were fair. “Instead of ‘don’t fucking bite me’ I got an “Oh God Oh God Oh God.” So I bit you, and I claimed you, and now I’m fucked.”.  
Roger flushed with anger and embarrassment, then tensed so much Andy gasped, and so did Roger. “Gettoffme.” Roger growled through gritted teeth.  
Andy paled, because he couldn’t. “Rog, I’m...”  
“Get your dick out off my ass right fucking now, and I don’t care how you do this. Just do this.”  
When Andy froze above him and didn’t move, Roger put two hands on Andy’s chest and shoved, as hard as he could, then used his leg to kick Andy away. Andy was thrown backwards, and their bodies broke contact with a sickening sucking sound as Andy’s knot broke loose from Roger’s entrance. Roger cried out and curled in a fetal position from the pain of it. His toes curling and splaying against the bed.  
“Fuck! You idiot!” Andy barked, scared.”Why did you do that for?!”  
Roger wheezed into the pillow, his throat closed on a silent scream. Andy sat next to him, covered him in a blanket and rubbed his lower back. “Shit. Breath. Come on, breath. Shit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Roger. I didn’t mean to say it, and I didn’t mean to bite you. GOD. Your wife will *cascarate* me.”  
“Shut up..” Roger said weakly, when he got his voice back. “It’s not your fucking fault, it’s mine. Just mine.” His voice broke as curled further around himself.  
Andy continued rubbing his back. “Don’t talk. Breath. Omegas suppose to have serious healing powers while in heat. That’s one of the reasons why you can’t play a tournament through it. Huge powers of recovery.”  
“It doesn’t feel like it’s healing right now.” Roger groaned. “It feels like you shoved your fist in then pulled my intestines out.”  
Andy winced. ”I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it to you like that, not while we’re still - connected. It was cruel. I’m very sorry. Honestly I’m a bit of a - mess right now.”  
Roger took a gulping breath, then another, trying to manage the pain. “I know.” He finally said once he regulated his breathing. softly. “Look, I’m sorry. You didn’t have to be here and compromise yourself, you did this for me. Maybe you should have let Djokovic come in.” He said bitterly. “For him it would just be a fuck. I would have hate any moment of it, but nothing would have happened to *him*. He would have walked out of here tomorrow morning feeling like a major stud.”  
He glanced at Andy and wiped at his face. “If you think that this- us-what we did - that it doesn’t affect me, you’re blind, because it does. But - it doesn’t change the fact that -” He swallowed. “I love Mirka. I know you know this.”  
Andy nodded tiredly. “I know. Come on. I do know THAT. And I wouldn’t want it any other way. I just think - the fact I’ve never done this before...fucked someone during a heat - it messing with my mind big time. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.”  
Roger curled in the blanket, wincing, and made some space to Andy to lie next to him. Andy, hesitatingly, complied. Roger gave him a tender look and Andy had to look away because this wasn’t suppose to happen this way. He was the one who hurt Roger, he wasn’t suppose to give him this pitying expression.  
“Trust me.” Roger said gently. “You’re not in love with me. Not really. Even if you did look twice at me before, you definitely weren’t in love with me three hours ago. The only thing that’s different is that you fucked me. It’s the heat.”  
Andy looked away. “Maybe not. Maybe when your heat is done I’m going to feel normal again. I sure hope so. Because right now, I feel - incredibly possessive of you.” He sighed.”Biting you is only going to make it worse.” He glanced at Roger. “Does it make YOU feel any different?”  
Roger hesitated, then nodded slowly, his face were tense and guilty. “Yes.” He said. “I feel - the urge is stronger, now. But it’s a bit - different for me, because - ”  
‘“Mirka.” He looked away. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have said no, when she asked me. I should have told her that I never slept with Any Omega in heat before. Maybe you’d then look for someone who knew what the hell they were doing. Who who just give you a good fuck and never look back.”  
Roger snorted. “That doesn’t sound like a good fuck to me. Not sure I’d want to go to bed with someone like that, to be honest. Marat, maybe, if he was here.”  
Andy growled, then his eyes widened in shock at himself, then grimaced. “I know I brought this on myself, but if we could change the subject, it would be good. I’m not exactly in control of my reaction right now when you start talking about other people you’d rather get fucked by.”  
Roger stared at him for a moment, his eyes bright with a golden hue, then he reached out with a trembling hand to touch Andy’s cheek. Andy froze under his tough. “I - didn’t say that. I’m happy that you said yes. No way could I have gotten through a heat alone. I tried that once, I never want to have that experience again. I just - “ He considered his words. “He wouldn’t have gotten attached.” He licked his lips. “I - would have probably - been less affected, too.” His eyes were brown and large. “Andy...” He let out a distressed sound. “I’m not sorry it was you.” He leaned toward him, then he kissed him, soft but insistent. Andy, initially frozen from shock, let out a growl, and was kissing him right back, hard and possessive, with teeth.  
The moment Andy moved to deepen the kiss, Roger pulled away, his eyes wide open and alarmed. “God. I’m - “ He was at loss for words.  
Andy was panting, and his eyes were dark. “FUCK. Roger. Just - fuck you. Fuck you Fuck you. You’re a good hour away from your next wave, so, don’t do this. Don’t fuck with me like that! Just do-”  
He stopped when he realized Roger was sweaty and shivering. His voice softened at once. “Are you okay?”  
Roger reached out behind him and hissed as he examined himself. “Oh.”  
Andy sat up in bed, his eyes wide. “Fuck, are you bleeding?!”  
Roger was pale. “It’s fine, I just want to shower.”  
‘“Roger...”  
“It’s alright. I’m fine. I just want to get cleaned up.”  
He dragged himself out of bed, keeping a sheet around him, and headed to the bathroom without another word, limping noticeably.  
Andy sighed, and rolled over to his stomach, burying his face in the sheet. It smelled of sweat and come and Roger’s rich scent. In other words - it smelled good. FUCKKKKK.  
He seriously considered checking up on Roger, but realized the man wanted to get away, and he couldn’t blame him. He screamed soundlessly into the bed. This was getting to the both of them, not just to him. He didn’t know if it was making him feel better or worse. But the lines were definitely blurred right now.  
He lifted his head sharply as the bed dipped when Roger crawled back into bed, dressed in boxer shorts, smelling clean and fresh. He gave the Swiss a penetrating stare. “Well? Be honest.”  
Roger bit his lip and sighed. “I’m pretty torn up. I’m stupid. I did it to myself.”  
Andy’s eyes widened. “Shit. Is it bad enough for a hospital?”  
Roger shook his head rapidly. “God. No. Please. It will be alright. I can’t leave here. And everyone will know. It’s not so bad. I took something for the pain, I just - can you take it easy next time?”  
“Next time?! Even if I could take it easy - and I’m not sure it’s possible, it’s still going to hurt like a motherfucker!”  
Roger expression was panicky. “Andy, I’m still going to need you to fuck me. I’m raw and sore, but the pain of it will be nothing in comparison to the pain of not getting fucked during a heat. Tell me you won’t say no, please.”  
Andy’s expression was grave. “Godammit. How long till the next wave?”  
“Dunno. Like two hours.” He swallowed. “I’m exhausted. Maybe we could try to actually sleep a little.” He wiped at his face. “I could sleep elsewhere. I mean - there’s a sofa. I don’t - I’m so sorry about - before.”  
Andy glared at him. “Don’t fucking apologize. It’s useless. Is sleeping elsewhere even a realistic proposal? Can you sleep alone?”  
“I don’t know. Maybe.” He flushed. “Probably not, I will get antsy in minutes and wake up. I’m sorry. It’s only - if I can sleep it would probably delay the need for - ”  
“More sex.”  
“Yeah.”  
Andy sighed. “And when you wake up burning with heat? I think we can both tell that I don’t have the control I thought I have, or I wouldn’t have bitten you. I *will* fuck you again, and it would be rough, and even if you beg me to stop, even if you bleed, it wouldn’t matter. I *will* fuck you nonetheless.”  
Roger shuddered, then bit his lower lip, nodding. “I know. I have - a suggestion.”  
Andy quirked a brow. “Shoot.”  
“Did you ever bottom?”  
Andy’s eyes opened wide. “What? No! Why?”  
Roger blinked his lips. “It would help. It won’t be as good as - I’m an Omega, but it’s in our nature to want to be fucked during a heat, but I can get a certain amount of satisfaction from topping. I - ” His voice faded. “I know it would- help- somewhat. I mean - Mirka, and I... many times this is what we do.” His voice died.  
Andy whitened. “I’ve never even come close to doing anything like that, Roger. I don’t know if I- can.”  
Roger’s tone was soft. “You don’t have to. I just put it out there. Lets go to sleep, okay? Just - try to be take it slow later, okay?” His expression was nervous and hopeful.  
Andy’s face were wrecked. “Roger...I can’t promise this.” He put a hand on Roger’s neck, where he had bitten him earlier, and slid it to his shoulderblades and squeezed. “I can try very hard though.”  
Roger closed his eyes at Andy’s touch, and burrowed into him, face to face, tangling their legs together. Andy, feeling delirious from the closeness of Roger to him, murmured.“Touching helps, right?” As if that’s why he was doing that.  
Roger nodded, and lifting one of his legs on top of Andy’s.”Yeah.” He said in a low voice.”Otherwise I feel this itch under my skin that doesn’t go away...this is so good.” He sighed, then moaned as Andy ran his fingertips up his leg, from knee to thigh.  
God, but this was intoxicating. Roger’s face pressing around his neck, their knees touching, and suddenly there was a hand wrapped around his waist, finger and thumb just at the edge of where shirt met pants and skin was exposed. He shivered. “Roger...” He tried, but Roger burrowed closer, signing, and Andy’s defences melted away. He wrapped a possessive arm around Roger’s waist, pulling him closer, and once he was settled, he fell asleep in moments.

Andy woke up with the distinct feeling of something very hard rubbing against him. Roger was clinging to him, feeling very heated, and the omega scent was growing very strong again. A glance to the watch said 5:30 AM. They were asleep for 2.5 hours.  
“Roger.” He tried in a choked voice. “Rog, are you awake through this, or is this a wet dream?”  
Roger groaned as the heat lanced through him, sharp and fierce..“I tried not to wake you up, but I can’t. Oh. I just can’t. I can’t ignore it.”  
He clung to Andy and rubbed against him. “Oh God. Oh God,” Roger was groaning “You smell so good. Please. Please. Please. We have to do something. Please. Fuck me,”  
Roger was naked already, Andy realized with a start, and was grinding against him. Andy’s body responded. It responded to Roger’s scent and touch a lot before his awareness returned, and now he was rock hard and dripping.  
“Rog...” He breathed. He pressed the Swiss against his body, and they ground against one another to the staccato of their own harsh breathing. Then Andy’s hands grasped Roger’s ass and squeezed, fingers ghosting over Roger’s entrance. There was no mistaking the following hiss of pain or the groan. However, that didn’t stop Roger from rubbing against his fingers, an expression of pleasure-pain on his face.”Ahhhh.” Roger groaned, breathing hard. “That’s...do it. I can take it.” His face were pale underneath the flush.  
That sobered Andy up, and he held Roger firmly in place, and then fingered his hole very gently. FUCK, but he felt swollen and hot to the touch.  
A moment later he was on the other side of the room. “No. No. No. Roger. Get away. No way am I fucking you like that. No. Just - No! What the fuck.” He shook where he stood, because he wasn’t suppose to resist it, he wasn’t suppose to resist the pull of an Omega. It wasn’t in his blood. Roger was on his knees on the bed, looking at him with desperate eyes. “You can’t leave me like that. Please... it’s been hours already. Ahhhhhh.” He started rubbing himself on the bed, hard, groaning. It was the most arousing and terrifying sight ever.  
Andy stared at him for a moment, shaking. There was no way he would be able to resist him, and he couldn’t leave, either. “Roger.” He said in a choked voice, waiting for the other man to look up dazeley. “Any fucking would do, you said.”  
“Huh?” Roger wasn’t coherent.  
“Fucking me - that would help?” He repeated, more clearly, and wished he could control the tremor in his voice.  
Roger’s eyes lit up. “Yeah. Some.”  
Slowly, Andy walked back to the bed, then lied on it, face down. “I know you’re in heat, but try to keep in mind that it’s my first time.” It dawned to him that if he was going to do it, they should have done it while Roger had his wits about him. FUCK.  
He felt Roger moving around him, then the sensation of a warm body on top of him. Roger lips were at his neck, and he shivered. “God.” Roger murmured, nuzzling him. “I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”  
Suddenly there were muscular thighs around his ass and Roger was rubbing against him, groaning. Andy tensed, and Roger paused.  
“Andy.” Roger said warily, suddenly saner than he was a moment ago, thrown by the docility. “Tell me I’m not forcing you here, because if I am, I’ll lock myself in the bathroom, I promise.”  
Andy inhaled, surprised by the chance to change his mind, and realized he didn’t want to. “No - I’m - that’s okay.” He spread his legs, giving Roger a better access. However, he shuddered when he felt Roger’s dick against his entrance.”Rog, I don’t self-lubricate.”  
Roger withdrew quickly to grab the lube from the shelf. “Right. Sorry.”  
When he came back, Andy could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “And, do you want - face to face, or like that.?”  
Andy shivered. “Like that, I think.” He didn’t think he could bear to look at Roger. He buried his face in the pillow and shuddered as he felt Roger’s long fingers at his entrance. Rubbing the oil on him, feeling their way around.  
“God, you’re - tight.”  
“What did you expec-ohhhhh.” He breathed as a silky finger breached him, fighting against the resistance. ”Fuck! Slower, slower. Like- way way slower.”  
Roger was panting, and rubbing against his leg. “Sorry, I’m just - too wired. I’m not used to having control while I’m in heat, I’ll try to slow it down.” The finger slowed, and started circling in him. Stretching him. He pushed back against it, then against the bed. “Eh. It feels weird.”  
“Good weird?”  
“Don’t - ah - don’t know yet.”  
Roger added another finger, not elegantly, and Andy couldn’t help the clench at the burn of the intrusion, he could hear his own harsh breaths echoing in the room. Suddenly there were hands around his shoulders and he found himself on his back. Roger’s face above him was wrecked. “Jesus I’m hurting you, my fingers all clumsy. I just - I’m not focused enough for - I’ll botch it up, I don’t want it to be - look you’ve never done it - you’re doing this for me anyway- and - I haven’t done it with a man, ever. I don’t want it to suck for you. It shouldn’t be that way. I’m not - Omegas aren’t suppose to be in control during a heat.”  
Andy frowned at him. “What do you normally do?” Then blinked, because obviously Roger slept with a woman, and that was a lot easier, preparation wise. “Never mind, it was a stupid question and I don’t really want to know.”  
Roger shivered. “I’m sorry. I’m like a horny teenager during heats.”  
Andy closed his eyes. “Right.” They looked at each other for a moment, then Andy sat up. and pushed Roger against the headboard. “Lean.” Roger complied, confusion on his face.”What are you doing?”  
“Taking control over this.” He sat on Roger’s legs, and reached out to his dick. He held it in his palm, and watched the muscles in Roger’s stomach hallowing as the Swiss bit his lip, both of their eyes on Roger’s dick. “Why the fuck did you have to be so big for an Omega?” Usually, Omegas only had average dicks, but Omegas also weren’t suppose to be amazing athletes. Of course Roger would be the exception.  
Roger smiled slightly. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”  
“I’m observing something that’s going up my ass, so -”  
He rubbed the tip, spreading the moisturising on the top, and watched as Roger let his head fall back. “Ohh.” His hands tightened in the sheets.”Oh.”  
Andy reached to the lube, and smeared a generous amount on Roger, and on himself, using one finger, then two.Roger’s eyes widened as he looked at him, then, the sweat on his brow revealing his anxiety, as he moved to straddle him. Roger stared. “Andy, that’s...it’s going to be way harder this way.”  
“Shut up.” Andy said gruffly. “Let me do this, you had your chance. I’ll bottom - fine. Doesn’t mean you also get control, especially as you can’t handle it right now.”  
Roger’s hand immediately reached to Andy’s waist, balancing him as he pretty much sat on his dick. Andy’s mouth gaped as he inched downward, and Roger’s fingers tightened on his waist. He stopped and waited, grimacing at the stretch and pull, then pulled up, then inched down again. His face contorting as he tried to adjust, groaning softly. He held his position, allowing his body to get used to the intrusion, that hardness in him.Roger panted, fighting to urge to thrust up. “Andy...” He moaned.”I’m gonna lose it.”  
“Thrust before I say you can and I’ll go away and leave you to suffer, I swear to fucking christ!” And yeah, he fucking meant it, because he felt stretched and panicky, but somehow extremely turned on.  
Roger threw his head back, gripping the sheets tightly and whined. “You should have tied me up, then. Fuck. God - I can’t help it.”  
The fire coiling low in Andy’s belly, He moved to hands to Roger’s shoulders and pulled himself a few inches up, then - with a groan - down again, a few inches further. It hurt, but not impossibly so, there was something so erotic about the position, there was no describing how hard he was. He never thought he’d enjoy it so much, and Roger had such expression of rapture on his face, it was turning him on big time.  
He opened his eyes to watch Roger watching him through lidded eyes, and a sigh escaped his mouth. “What are you looking at?” He asked Roger, his voice low.  
Roger choked.”You. I -” He closed his eyes, flushing. “I like the way you look like that. It’s - hot.”  
“Fuck Roger.” Andy groaned. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”  
He bit his lip and inched further down, making them both groan, he unintentionally clenched around Roger. Roger moaned, low and hungry, and jerked up just a little bit. Andy winced, but it was getting good now. He didn’t mind. He was so turned on. ”Oh. Yeah. Can you - oh.” His head dropped against Roger’s shoulder as Roger held his waist and just rocked him slightly. “Fuck. Fuck. I didn’t know it would be like this.”  
Roger groaned. “Really? You think it’s good? So I can fuck you?”  
“Yeah. It’s ok- OH FUCKING CHRIST.” He cried out as Roger thrust up, harder than he thought he would, ramming his prostate, making sparks shoot down his spine. “OhOh..”.  
The pace turned brutal in instant, Roger unable to be patient or to control his reactions. Andy leaned his forehead on Roger’s shoulder as he pulled himself up and down, increasing his pace. Sparks shooting down his spine whenever Roger’s dick clipped his prostate and he groaned into Roger’s shoulder, his mouth slack, almost drooling.  
Roger’s fingers tightened impossibly on Andy’s hips, bruising, keeping him in place as he started fucking straight into him, and Andy would have liked it a little slower , and a little gentler, and with more finesse, but Roger was incoherent with heat-induced-arousal, and Andy knew he isn’t aware to anything but the feel on Andy on his dick. He was moaning non-stop. Low, guttural sounds.  
At the end, Andy didn’t need more than a couple of pulls on himself as a careless roll of Roger’s hips caught him just right. He convoluted on top of Roger and groaned into his neck, because fuckfuckfuckdon’tbiteagain. But avoiding that urge was apparently easier when he wasn’t doing the fucking.  
Roger’s face twisted, and he was still gripping Andy’s hips, struggling toward his orgasm. His moans turning more and more desperate, unable to reach his climax. Andy reached down to search for his nipples, and pinched on the left one. Hard. And Roger lost it, thrust in hard and came with a shudder and a cry, his grip strong enough to leave marks on Andy’s thighs.  
Andy choked because he could actually feel it, Roger pulsing, hard and wet inside him. Fuck, it was odd, but not in a bad sort of way.  
Andy made a sound against Roger shoulder. He was sore and achy, because yeah, he wasn’t exactly used to this, and in spite of his orgasm, he was left with a vague ache, as if he hadn’t completed what he was suppose to.  
Roger was breathing hard in his ear, he had a death grip on Andy’s thighs. Hard enough to bruise.  
“Shit. Oh-God. And...are you okay?”  
Andy lifted his head, Roger’s eyes were big and vulnerable.“Yeah.” He panted. “But - if you can relax your grip a bit, that would be good.”  
Roger let go, and Andy, ignoring the warning bells at the end of his consciousness, leaned his forehead against him and husked. “Didn’t say you should let go entirely.”  
Roger eyes widened slightly, but he slowly returned his hands to Andy’s thighs, and caressed, slowly, with his thumb. “What are we doing?” He asked, his voice full of desperation.  
“I don’t know, but - now that I’ve put out - can you fucking kiss me already?”  
Roger groaned, and complied. Andy growled into the Swiss’s mouth, sucking on his tongue. He held Roger’s face in his palms, feeling the stubble grazing his fingers.  
“And...I CAN’T.” Roger mumbled into Andy’s lips. He didn’t take his hands off Andy. “You have to help me stop this.”  
Andy broke the connection with a growl and a swear. He pulled back, then got off him. Rolling off to the other side of the bed, then off it, stalking off to the sun balcony, nude.  
Roger lied back down on the bed, and screamed into the pillow.

Ten minutes later, Roger opened the door to the balcony, holding a pair of shorts. Andy was standing, his hands on the rails, staring down to the view below.  
“How long, do you think till your next heat wave?” He asked, without turning, not looking at Roger. “Like before, two hours? Because I think I’m going to get out of here for a little while. Go for a walk, maybe bring us something to eat, but mostly just - get out of here.”  
“Less. Less than two.“ Roger walked inside. “It’s - not as effective when I’m not bottoming. It’s really good - I just- it’s just not what my body is asking for.” ‘  
There was silence, and then Roger said. “Andy...” He sighed when Andy didn’t turn. “Christ. Don’t be like that.”  
Andy turned to him., his eyes were bright. “What’s *that*?”  
Roger crossed his arms around himself, his lips in a set line. “An Alpha that doesn’t get his way with an Omega.” He sniffed imperiously. “You can’t stand it that I’m not rolling over for you.”  
"Fuck you.” Andy reddened. “I just rolled over for YOU. Fuck you to hell, Federer, and hand me the fucking pants already.”  
Roger tossed him the shorts, expression was somber.“You’re not the only one feeling like crap. How confusing this is to me should be obvious to you.”  
“How I’m becoming addicted to you should be obvious to *you*, and don’t tell me it’s the heat. I fucking don’t care, it’s killing me.” His voice was fraying at the edges.  
Roger stepped back, his expression torn. “Me, too.“ He wiped at his face. “I don’t know what the hell you want from me.” Roger’s voice cracked suddenly, along with his mask of calm. “Do you want me to throw myself from this balcony, or what? Maybe that would be easier than doing this. You’re laying this- this guilt trip on me, I’m cheating on my wife, whom I love, and that feels like SHIT, but I’m having the greatest sexual experience of my life and can’t stop what I’m doing and II don’t know what you want me to do.” Then he was sobbing, taking big gulping breaths, and Andy had him in his arms in a minute. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry. Fuck Roger. I’m sorry.” He hated himself, because this wasn’t Roger’s fault, either. Just the situation.  
They clung to each other desperately, Andy squeezed him tight in his arms. Roger was shaking like a leaf. “We’ll figure it out. I’m not quite sure how, but we will, I -” He suddenly tensed. “Is that someone knocking on the door?”  
Roger’s voice was weak. “Just tell them to go away, whoever it is.”  
Andy had his hand at Roger’s back as they went back into the room.

“Yeah?” Andy called out. “Who is it?”  
“Sara...and Tommy is here too. Are you - I mean, can you open the door.”  
Roger’s eyes opened wide and Andy turned to him, disgust in his voice. “What, is Haas mental? He’s an alpha, he can’t come in here! No Alpha can resist how you smell.”  
Roger flushed.”He’s a good friend - I don’t know what he’s thinking”  
Andy glared at Roger. “Stay here. Oh, for fucksake.” He got off the bed and approached the door. “Haas, did you lose it, man?” Andy called out. “You can’t come in here.”  
On the other side of the door, they could hear Haas sighing. “I’m on emergency alpha suppressants, idiot. Should give me an hour, now open the fucking door, we want to make sure Roger is alright.”  
Andy turned to Roger, whose eyes were red, and scratched his face. “Rog, It’s up to you. You want to see them?”  
Roger hesitated, then nodded.  
They put the rest of their clothes on in a hurry, then Andy opened the door a crack, and snarled at Haas, who smirked. “Down boy. Come on, smell me, a harmless alpha.” His smirk then disappeared at Andy’s expression of distrust. “Fuck, you’re not thinking straight. Andy, don’t be stupid, I wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t control myself and neither would Sara.”  
Andy sniffed. The musky scent of an alpha on Haas was muddled and faint, the result of the suppressants Haas was on.  
“How can you stand these things?” Andy asked. “I vomit for hours when I take ‘em.”  
Haas shrugged. “I don’t have any bad reaction, but they fade away quick.”  
He closed his eyes for a moment. “Fuck, but this room reeks of heat sex.”  
“What the hell did you expect?” Andy snorted. He glanced at the pretty Omega. “The only reason I trust him is because you’re here, Sara.”  
Sara nodded, her voice reassuring. “They really do work on him, look - we just wanted a word with Roger, that’s all.”  
Andy sighed, and allowed them in.  
Roger was standing next to the wall, his hands crossed around himself. Sara and Tommy both paused at the door. "Rog" Tommy said, concern in his voice. "Can we come in?"  
"What you doing here?" Roger asked, his embarrassment etched clearly on his face.  
"Mirka called me earlier."Sara said, her voice soft. "We just wanted to make sure you were alright. Can you stand our presence for a couple of minutes, or are you two - busy."  
Roger bit his lip. "I have like - 30 minutes. Then Tommy should go."  
Sara nodded. “Have you two eaten?” She asked. “We brought you some danishes from the bakery.”  
Andy gestured aimlessly with his hand. “I was just going to bring up something.” Feeling drained all of a sudden, he rubbed his eyes. Tommy looked between the two men in growing suspicion. “What did you guys do? I know how heat-sex can be intense, but you look like you haven’t slept for a week. You just started this!”  
Roger frowned at him. “I don’t know what you expected.”  
“Not for you to look like that.” His voice softened. “You realize Mirka understands, right? She’s an Alpha, she knows how it works.”  
Roger snorted bitterly. “Yeah. Right.” He wiped at his face. “Can you not tell me how she understands, because I’m pretty sure Mir’s gonna have a different opinion when she gets here, so stop fucking excusing me. The whole thing is my fault.”  
He walked to the dining room, and Tommy tensed at once, because he could see the slight limp. “What the F-” He rounded on Andy, fury in his eyes, snarling. “Are you 15 years old?! You gotta have a real talent to injure an Omega on his heat!”  
Roger turned, startled. “Tommy, don’t!”  
Tommy approached him. “Fuck this. Your eyes are red, you look like crap, you’re limping like someone fucked you with the jackhammer, not a dick, and you expect me to say nothing?!”  
“Tommy.” Sara said cautiously. “Easy, easy, let them explain.”  
Tommy wouldn’t hear it, he grabbed Roger’s arm. “Tell me you want out of here and we’re going right now. We’ll figure something out, I promise you. No way am I leaving you here with him.”  
Andy tensed at once, his eyes turning orange. “The fuck you are.” He growled. “And get away from him. You have about five seconds.”  
Tommy was about to snarl something back but then Roger got out a few words in rapid German, his face red. Tommy’s eyes widened, then softened, then narrowed in clear concern. He took a deep breath. “Shit. Do you need medical attention?”  
Roger shook his head no. “No, God. No, I’m - it’s healing already, drop this, please, now. It’s not Andy’s fault.” He shifted uneasily and shoved Tommy lightly. “Do me a favor, just - move back.”  
Tommy’s eyes widened, and he stepped back all the way, under control. He looked at Andy. “Sorry.” He sighed. “Sorry. I jumped to conclusions, there.”  
Andy nodded a bit, breathing more calmly now that Tommy had stepped back.”I don’t blame you, actually.”  
Sara broke the silence. “Do you want to sit and eat?”

Moments later, Sara and Tommy exchanged worried glances, as Roger was playing with his food, while Andy was glancing at him, concerned. Sara broke the uneasy silence first. “What’s wrong?”  
It suddenly occurred to him that his presence at the room was stopping Roger from speaking freely with his friends. “Rog, you want me out of here, so you could speak to them?”  
Roger looked at him and shook his head no. “No, it’s okay.” He glanced up at his friends, then studied his food, not looking up. “What’s wrong? I mean - what’s right? I feel terrible about this.” He closed his eyes. “It feels good. I’m cheating on my wife and it feels good. That’s a terrible feeling.”  
Tommy sighed. “It’s heat sex, Roger. It’s always going to feel good. Don’t let it eat away at you.”  
Roger looked at him, sticking his chin up. “So, if Sara got stuck having a heat while you’re on tour, you’d be totally fine with her finding someone to fuck her?”  
Tommy’s mouth twitched. “No, that would feel horrible, but I’d understand, I would have to.” He looked at his friend, then understanding struck. “Rog, tell me you’ve had heats before that weren’t with Mirka, specifically, with men?”  
Roger shook his head, he was cutting his doughnut to very small pieces with a knife. “Exactly when would I have time for that.” He muttered. “We’ve been together since I was 19.”  
“I don’t know, when you were 18? Heats usually start at 13, 14.”  
“Suppressants. I only cared about tennis then, not mating.” He frowned at his friend. “You were fucking Omegas as a Junior?”  
Tommy blinked. “Um, yes? I can’t believe Mirka was the only one.”  
“I thought you knew that stuff about me.” Roger grumbled.  
Tommy frowned. “I guess I did, I just never thought about it in the Omega-Alpha context. Well, shit.”  
He looked at Andy, his eyes were grave. “At least tell me you’ve been fucking men since you turned 15 and when this week is over, walking away gonna be no problem for you. Tell me you’re the sort of Alpha who fucked Omegas in heats all his life and knows how to handle what comes with it.”  
Andy raised defiant eyes, because he could see it took Tommy, one of the tours playboy alphas, who took a while to settle down with Sara Foster, all but five minutes to figure it out. “Men, yeah. I’ve been around, just not around Omegas. Betas, almost all of them, and never during a heat. It just worked out this way, and as for walking away, right now I don’t have the slightest notion on how I’m going to do that. Hopefully when his heat is over it would suddenly become clearer.”  
Tommy wiped his face. “What were you thinking then, when you said yes to Mirka?” He rounded on Andy. “Don’t you know how it affects Alphas, to knot Omegas, especially for the first time?” He groaned and looked at Roger. “She should have asked a woman. Won’t be as effective, but at least it wouldn’t feel so - new to you.”  
Roger’s cheeks were red, he didn’t look at Tommy, or at Andy. “That’s an understatement.”  
Andy closed his eyes, angry at himself. “I didn’t think it would be like this.”  
Tommy rolled his eyes. “You didn’t think fucking an Omega for the first time during a heat would mess with your mind?!”  
“I...” Andy rubbed at his face. “I don’t know. It happened so fast, I didn’t actually give it much thought. I didn’t know this would - affect me like this.I didn’t want to leave him like that.” He stared down at Tommy. “I thought she should have asked YOU.”  
Tommy fell silent and flushed.  
“Never mind.” Roger murmured softly. “Don’t answer that. Seriously. This was never an option and I don’t want to know what you would have said. If it would have felt anything like this it would have been a disaster. At least Andy is single.”  
Tommy sighed. Exasperation coloring his voice. “That’s not a good thing. Someone who is already attached would get over the experience much quicker. But the big problem isn’t that Andy is single, is that he’s never fucked an Omega in heat before, it’s that you’ve never been fucked by a male alpha before.” He groaned. “This is just - it was a bad judgement call on all of your part. You needed to choose an attached, experienced, *female* alpha, Instead you picked a single, inexperienced male alpha.” He rubbed at his face. “Omegas need to get fucked, it’s a biology thing. There are substitutes, but it’s never quite the real thing, you never had it so you dont miss it. You will now.”  
Roger gave his friend a scathing look. “Thanks for the Sex Ed, there’s nothing I wanted more than a condescending lecture about Omega sexuality from an Alpha sprinkled with broad generalization about my marriage. None of this shit matters, Mirka is my mate.”  
Sara’s expression was soft. “Yes, she is, but that doesn’t matter now.” Her voice was grave as she looked at Andy. “Did you bite him?”  
Andy paled, and Tommy’s head snapped up, his lips curling into a grimace.”Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you had enough self control.”  
Andy eyes blazed. “Well, no, I had no self control, I don’t know how you control that urge, do you?”  
Tommy swore long and hard in german, his voice filled with disgust.  
“Tommy” Sara groaned. “Don’t be an idiot, you know he can’t help it, YOU can’t help it, you bite me all the time.”  
Tommy looked at his girlfriend and wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have to help it, you’re mine to bite, Roger isn’t.”  
Sara arched an eyebrow. “Keep up with that kind of talk, the only thing you’ll be biting would be the pillow in your cold bed. Most male Alphas can’t help the urge to bite, let alone someone who never experienced an Omega’s heat before, it’s silly to even expect it.”  
“Look.” Roger said, his voice pleading. “Mir gonna be back today, so that should be alright, right?”  
Tommy’s eyes opened wide. “What?! Why is she coming now? What’s the point?”  
Roger looked at him, his voice panicky. “What do you mean ‘what’s the point? She’s coming back today, what’s wrong with that?”  
Tommy looked at his wife, then gave Roger a pitying expression, and mumbled something. “You tell him.” He told Sara. “I don’t have the heart.” He got up and paced around the room, agitated, and Andy could think he was smelling him stronger, now.  
Andy closed his eyes, realization dawning. “What they mean is that you can’t switch mates mid-heat.”  
“I have one mate.” Roger’s voice was weak.  
“No.” Sara said softly. “You don’t. I mean, you do, but there’s a secondary bond now, and you can’t just expect that Mirka is gonna come in here, and Andy’s gonna go back to his hotel room, and everything would be as it was. It doesn’t work like that. Andy will go insane with jealousy, and - you will need him, for the heat, it won’t work with Mirka, not in this heat cycle, anyway. You need to finish this one with Andy.”  
Roger was silent and pale, he just stared at her, saying nothing.  
The blood was pounding in Andy’s ears. “Is - is it just because I bit him?” His voice sounded to be coming from a distance to his ears.”Tell me that it isn’t because of that.”  
Sara shook his head. “No. That’s just going to make it worse for you, it’s mainly because Roger will still crave...” She hesitated. “He’ll still need a man to - ”  
Roger waved his hand agitatedly. “I got it, thanks.” He raised desperate eyes. “You don’t know that. Maybe that’s not going to be a problem, I never had any - my sex life are completely satisfying, thank you very much.”  
Tommy made a face. “Rog.. “ He sighed. “You’re a bit - naive. And - secondly - like Saraf said, Andy would go mad. He has zero experience handling with heat situations. Mirka will come here and he will try to hurt her.”  
Andy voice was rough.”This I knew before, I wasn't planning on being here when she arrives."  
Tommy fixed him with a stare. “You think you're going to be able to stay away? Don't make me laugh. ”  
Roger suddenly let out a gasping breath and closed his eyes. “Oh. Shit.” He shifting in his seat.”Not now.”  
Andy inhaled and shook. “Rog, your 30 minutes - are more like 20.” He looked at Tommy. “Still steady there, big guy?” Tommy’s eyes were glazed and Andy grimaced. “Fuck - get out.”  
Tommy’s other hand clenched on his coffee. “I’m fine. Rog?”  
Roger got up from his chair, his knees were shaking. “I need to throw up.” He rushed to the bathroom.  
Tommy stood up, so did Andy. He had an iron grip on Tommy’s shoulder. “Enough. I’ll go talk to him. You should get out of here.”  
Tommy’s lips were in a tight line. “He’s my friend.”  
Andy shook his head. “I know, but your eyes are getting red, you’re not going there as a friend. Snap the fuck out of it, that’s the last thing he needs, to deal with a come-on from you.”  
Tommy shook his head and shuddered, trying to clear his head, he looked at Sara questioningly, and she rolled her eyes.“Your suppressants are down completely. I can go check on him, but you should go.”  
Tommy groaned. “Fuck but that was fast. He’s too deep into the heat, it’s slicing away at the suppressants like acid.”  
He looked at Andy and suddenly frowned. “Wait a minute, if he’s injured, how are you fucking him?”  
Andy blanched. “I wasn’t, not the last time.”  
Tommy rolled his eyes. “Great. You let him fuck you?”  
Andy felt his face grow hot. “I don’t know what other choices I had.”  
Tommy studied him, then sighed. “I don’t know either, but I’d stop doing it right now. It will just - it will strengthen the bond, doing it both ways. Omegas are fast healers, I hate to say it, but even if he’s not a 100%, fuck him.”  
Andy grimaced. “The fact that I’m even having this conversation with you is appalling.”  
“Yeah. Not enjoying this either.”  
He suddenly let out a deep exhale, and looked toward the bathroom door. Sara had him by the arm. “Time to go, now.”  
Tommy allowed his mate to take him away. He gave Andy a hard stare. “Don’t fuck him up more than you have to.”  
Andy’s mouth twisted. “Not sure which one of us is more fucked up as a result of this, but I’ll do my best.”

 

When they were gone, Andy sat there for a long while before heading toward the bathroom. The water were running in the shower, and the Omega scent was strong and potent again. “Rog, open the door.” No response. “Roger?”  
“Leave me alone.” Roger’s voice was choked.  
Andy groaned inwardly. “Come on, you know that makes no sense.”  
“I said no! I’ve done enough damage.” He could hear his voice breaking. “Andy, just go.”  
Andy ran an agitated hand through his hair. “Roger, Don’t be an idiot.”  
There was no response. Andy, helplessly, sank next to the door, waiting for Roger’s control to snap and to come out. He was getting hard, but mostly, he was getting worried. Long minutes passed, there was nothing from inside the room. No moans, no whimpering. Just that intoxicating smell, and some swooshing of..water? It didn’t sound like a shower, though. Was he taking a bath? Odd.  
He was dripping in his shorts,helplessly, he reached out to touch himself, his hand sliding over his dick, because being so close to that smell, but his heart was heavy.  
“Roger.” He tried again. Something was off. He got up and knocked on the door again. “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay, if you want me to lock you in the bedroom I will, but get out of the bathroom, please.”  
No response, nothing but that odd swooshing, and a sound he couldn’t recognize. “Roger, answer me right fucking now!”  
When no response was forthcoming, he tried the door. Locked. He looked around, obviously no key, this was an hotel room, the bathroom doors locked from the inside. “Roger, answer or I’m taking this door down!”  
Nothing.  
Panicking for real now, he tried his weight against the door. Nothing. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”  
He tried again, and again, using the force of his shoulder. By the third try, the door collapsed, and he gasped at the sight in front of him.  
Roger was in the tub, which was filled to the very top, submerged in water, his head was out of them, though. His lips were whitish-blue and he was unconscious. When Andy got to him and got his hands into the water, he nearly jumped. The water were freezing and filled with ice, Roger had a special fridge in the bathroom to do an ice-bath, and he apparently poured all the ice into the tub. “Fuck!”  
He grabbed Roger underneath his shoulders and hauled him out of the tub, Roger was limp and cold, dead weight in his arms.  
He carried him to the bedroom, threw him on the bed and got on top of him, shuddering at the shock of how cold Roger was. “Roger.Roger. Fuck, come on, say something.”  
Roger’s eyes opened, dazed and foggy, then closed.  
Andy wrapped himself around the Swiss, and rubbed his body hard, shoulder, hands, chest. He pulled the blanket over the both of them.  
Andy lowered his head to Roger’s neck, burying his face there. still rubbing his body, massaging the blood back into the muscles. “What the hell were you doing?” He mumbled into the Swiss’s neck. “You fucking idiot!”  
Slowly, gradually, Roger’s body started to heat up, faster than normal. It was the heat.  
Then it struck Andy, what Roger was trying to do. This was practically medieval. It’s what Omegas used to do in the old days, before suppressants, submerging themselves in ice-water, or going out to the snow. His heart broke a little bit at that, because it rarely worked the way it should, the Omega usually found themselves dead, and it wasn’t far today, it wasn’t far.  
Roger’s teeth were chattering now, which Andy thought was a good sign, and his eyes suddenly flew open. “Andy?” His face twisted when he realized where he was. “Why? It would have worked. It would have worked.”’  
“It would have WORKED?!” Andy growled. “It would have ‘worked’ you to an early grave!” He hugged him closer, rubbing him, rubbing against him, letting Roger’s heat built between them. “I’m gonna warm you up now,and you’re fucking gonna let me.” He slid a hand up Roger’s neck to hold his face, stroking his cheek. “Nothing is worth it, Rog.” He whispered. “Nothing, okay?” He leaned his forehead against Roger and kissed him softly, still rubbing him, and now thrusting against him. Roger never lost his erection, Andy realized, not even in the cold water, and if that wasn’t proof enough that cold water can’t suppress a true heat….  
Roger looked up at him with glazed eyes, then allowed his legs to fall open. He didn’t say anything, but Andy saw this as permission, an invitation, even.  
He fucked him very gently then, squeezing the soft moans and whimpers out of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What started out as a PWP, turned out to be some porn, lots of plot. Also, it's heavy on the angst.

Things settled into a weird routine after Roger’s failed attempt to either drown himself, or freeze of whatever part of him that made him go into heat.

 

He curled into Andy when they slept, and didn’t mention Mirka’s name once, and was altogether quiet and withdrawn, except when they fucked. Their fucking turned desperate, like an itch they couldn’t scratch. They had a problem and they knew it, but fucking was better than talking about it, when they could do nothing to help it.

 

Pierre and Severin dropped in the third morning. Again, with food, and change of clothes for Andy, who wasn’t expecting more than a two days stay, and didn’t quite fit into Roger’s clothes.

 

This was easier than Tommy’s visit, as neither of them was Alpha. Pierre’s expression was especially worried as he looked at Roger. “Do you eat? You need food to get you through a heat, Rog.”

Andy knew what he was talking about. Mid-season heats were bad news for Omegas, who needed all of their reserves for a week of insane fucking. And Roger didn’t prepare for it, so he didn’t regulate his diet accordingly.

  
Roger shook his head. “You know how it is. I can barely get anything down, and I don’t want - “ He stopped, then flushed. “Accidents.” He looked at Pierre worriedly. “This is going to fuck up my fitness big time.”  
Pierre sighed. “Don’t worry about it. Try to eat, but if you can’t, I got you all kinds of vitamins, as well. Take ‘em.”  
Roger sat on the sofa, his knees pressed to his chest, then lifted his head. “Did you talk to her? Is she here?”  
Severin nodded. “Yeah. She got here last night. She’s in another hotel.”  
“She didn’t call.” Roger said quietly. “Not since - I guess not since Tommy and Sara talked to her.”

“It’s hard on her. Roger. Focus on getting through it. Don’t worry about that right now.”  
“Yeah.” Roger said bitterly. “She’s only my wife. I should just focus on the fucking, is all.”  
He got up, and went to the bedroom. “Don’t lock it.” Andy yelled, and listened, relieved when he didn’t hear the lock turning.  
Severin frowned. “What’s that? Why did you tell him not to lock the door?”  
Andy rubbed at his face. “Last time I left him alone, he went into hypothermia in an ice bath. I don’t know what the fuck he was trying to pull.”  
Pierre’s gasp was audible. “What are you saying?”  
“He’s not coping well, the guilt is killing him.” Andy said shortly. “The more we do it, the more we need it. It’s like an addiction.” He bit his lip. “Is Mirka freaking?”  
Severin sighed. “That’s an understatement. It took a lot to convince her to stay away, and she didn’t know about that last bit.” He glanced at Andy. “If you wanted to leave, would you really not be able to? I can’t understand it.”  
Andy looked at his feet. “You’re a Beta. I - no. I don’t think I could… I can try, but - I don’t think it will work. Definitely not while he’s still in heat. I would be able to sense it even if I’m away. I can’t help it. It’s not a 100% rational.”  
Pierre sighed deeply. “I just wish she talked to me before calling you. The fact you’re a man should have automatically exclude you. I would have told her not to call you. Male Omegas and Female Alpha relationship is not uncommon, but it’s a fragile thing, biology wise. There are places, high quality places she could have sent him to. With professionals.”  
Andy’s eyes widened, he knew what kind of places Pierre was talking about. If you had enough money, which Roger had, you could buy an alpha for a heat. It was service provideded for Omegas in need. No illegal, but shady. Women alpha who performed such a service were even rarer, because most Omegas prefered a male Omegas while in heat.

“He would have never used such a place.”

Pierre’s lips were set. “I would have convinced him, had I known. I’m in a relationship with a woman myself. but even though all Omegas are bisexual, switching back and forth is almost impossible during heats.”  
He looked at Andy, almost accusingly. “And had I known you’ve never had an Omega...how does an alpha get to be your age, with your looks, money, fame and success, and never even sleep with an Omega during a heat?”  
Andy bristled. “I never felt the need. Alright? Omegas are rare on tour, no one goes into heat anymore, I had a beta partners, and - well - an alpha partner. That was interesting, but didn’t last long. I thought heats were a hassle, and you know something - they are.”  
Pierre gave him a piercing stare. “Really? and in a scale of one to ten how do you rate the experience, now that you’ve tried it?”  
Andy buried his face in his hands and shook his head. “Huge guilt trip aside? A twelve.” He mumbled.   
“And that’s an understatement, I’d imagine. I know what heats are like. And on a scale of 1-10, how much did you care for Roger before the heat? I mean, you agreed to do this. I know no alpha would refuse an Omega if they can already smell him, but you agreed with a clear head.”

Andy didn’t reply, and Pierre swore in French, and looked at Severin, who shook his head helplessly.   
Andy raised his head and fixed Roger’s long time trainer with a stare. “If you’re trying to make me feel worse, you’re succeeding, You’re an Omega, you’re about 15 years older than him, you’ve been his trainer since he was what? 14? Why didn’t you share some of that fucking Omega wisdom with him, huh?Pierre whitened, then sighed. “An error on my part. He was - he was on suppressants from an early age due to the tennis, and then he met Mirka. He had eyes to no-one but her. I knew he wouldn’t cheat.  I just never considered - a situation like this.”  
He glanced toward the bedroom. “You should go check on him. Call me for any  
thing, okay? I gave him some vitamins to take, make sure he takes them?”  
Andy nodded, and walked them to the door. The thick scent of an Omega in heat was already the air.

He opened the door to Roger’s bedroom. Roger was sitting on the bedside, his hands gripping his knees, his knuckles white. Andy sat next to him, already hard. That took about five seconds once he smelled him, and touched him almost at once, knowing it took the edge of the desire.  
He waited for Roger’s eyes to meet him. “Twelve?” Roger asked softly. “That’s not a Twelve, what we do.”  
Andy bit his lip. He didn’t count on Roger to overhear.“No. It’s not. I just didn’t want to inflate your overblown ego, though.”  
Roger mouth quirked and Andy grinned a bit, as well.The teasing felt normal, at least. This was what they did, not this sensual-needy-overpowering emotion.

Then Roger trembled and closed his eyes, his knees opening over so slightly.”Shit.” He mumbled. “Oh...It’s starting.”  
“Can I?” Andy asked, his mouth dry, watching the arousal flush spreading on Roger’s face.”Or do you want to hold a while longer?”  
“No point.” Roger said simply. Then took Andy’s hand in his and put it directly on his cock, pressing down, groaning. Andy complied and rubbed him through his pants, then delved underneath the fabric as Roger groaned more, thrusting up into his hand.  
“Fuck.” Andy groaned. Roger was harder than a rock burning in his hand, and he pushed him onto the bed. Getting on top of him in a hurry. He yanked Roger’s pants down, and his own. And a moment later they were naked, rubbing against each other. They were early into this next wave, so they could take it somewhat slower, and Andy didn’t know if that was a bad or a good idea, but mindless fuckinhg, crazed with lust, was easier to deal with than - well, the love making.

Roger whimpered as Andy thrust against him, angling his hips just so, and his fingers tightened against Andy’s back. He was spread beneath him, and Andy shuddered at how much it turned him on. He grabbed both of their dicks in his hand. Moving back and forth, and thumbed Roger’s foreskin, retracting it further back.

Roger shuddered, a full body twitch, at that. “Oh.”  
“It never dawned to me before now you’re not circumcised.”  
Roger glanced up at him. “Is that good or bad?”  
Andy smirked a bit. “Extra stuff to play with.” He did it again, and Roger twitched again with a moan.

”Jesus. Is there any part of your body that isn’t unbelievably sensitive?”  
Roger thrust into Andy’s hand. “Ahhh. Not -” He stuttered. “Not those parts.”  
Andy laughed at that. Keeping his hand on both of their dicks, his strokes light but steady. Roger ran his hands across Andy’s back, settling on his ass, and pulled him closer, so Andy was flush against him, and he bore the weight. Andy found himself with his face inches from Roger. He kissed him before, but then they were crazy with lust, or when Roger was barely conscious. This felt more intentional. “Rog.” The sound tore out of him. “Tell me I can.”

Roger’s lips parted slightly with a sigh, and that was all the permission Andy needed. They kissed slowly, and passion spiked inside Andy like molten lava, and he whimpered into Roger’s mouth, because oh. He bent his head to Roger’s neck, and and licked a trail from collarbone to ear, nibbling on the earlobe. Roger arched clear off the bed with a hoarse yell but weakly pushed Andy at the shoulder. “Ah. Oh. Oh. God. Please. Please I can’t. Just - fuck me. Fuck me, is all.”  
Andy raised his eyes, then buried his forehead on Roger’s chest, and took a deep breath.  
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m - shit. I don’t mean to cross the line. I don’t.”  
He shivered when Roger moved his hand to the top of his head, and he could sense the movement of Roger’s chest as he swallowed hard. “I know. I know that. I’m not  - mad. It’s just -  difficult for me. I don’t say no to the kissing because - I can’t - I can’t do this - thing,  and not kiss, and I think you’re the same. But no more, okay?” He shivered. “It’s so intimate that it hurts.”

Andy lifted his head, straightened, and moved to peck Roger on the lips. “Okay.” His eyes moved across his face and he moved to brace Roger’s legs on his shoulders, rubbing the ankle with his thumb. “This Okay?”  
Roger closed his eyes. “Please.” His face twisted a bit and he thrust his hips forward. “I need...” He sighed. “It aches.”  
Andy nodded, angled, then thrust forward several inches, no lube, because Roger was just about dripping with it and Roger made a low, choked voice at the back of his throat.   
“Good?”   
“More please more.”  
Andy groaned, and thrust in the rest of the way, his balls slapping against Roger’s thighs. Roger let out a cry as Andy clipped him just right, and arched on the bed, almost dislodging Andy, his head tilted back. “G-o-d. God-God” He ground his pelvis downward, looking for the stretch and friction. “Yes. There. Oh there.”  
Andy pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back, and cried out with it. Fuck it, how was he so close to coming already? He could feel his knot growing, expanding. and Roger yelped. Andy reached out to fist his dick, stroking it in sure and rough motions, making sure to circle on the head with every stroke, bringing Roger to the brink efficiently and hurriedly. He didn’t fuck around. He pulled as much as his knot allowed and slammed in again roughly with a hoarse cry.”So good.” He groaned. “So fucking-fucking good.”  
Roger convoluted, curled violently forward, and came with a sob, clenching hard around Andy. “Fucking christ.” Andy groaned. He fell forward and increased the pace. He buried his face in Roger’s neck as he rocked his hips forward, continuing to pound Roger mercilessly, not quite there yet.  
Roger made a choked sound at the continued onslaught of his prostate, he tightened his hands in Andy’s hair, moaned Andy’s name in weak protest, shuddered, and came again as he slammed his heels in Andy’s ass and pulled him even closer. That did it for Andy. A warm, burning sensation flooded up his spine and exploded, and did not subside or relent until he was mindless with it, calling out Roger’s name.

 

Andy came to, what must have been moments afterwards, to the sweetest sensation. He was sprawled on top of Roger, face pressed against Roger’s neck, lips slightly opened against Roger’s pulse points, his knot still embedded deep in him, Roger’s hands languid around him, and his fingers were trailing up and down his sweaty spine, fingernails scratching lightly.  
Roger’s head was leaning against the top of his own, his breathing even.  
Andy dared not move, in order not to spook him. But couldn’t help but melt a little bit into the Swiss. Roger’s hand stopped at once.

“Don’t stop.” His voice was small and needy to his own ears. “Please.”  
He could feel Roger’s swallow, but he resumed the stroking.  
“‘M I hurting you?” Andy asked.

“It’s not a bad pain.” Roger said softly.

Andy humphed and didn’t stir, lulled by the strokes, not feeling eager to move.  
Slowly, slowly, the knot deflated, and at Roger’s squirm, Andy eventually pulled out carefully, but did not move away. Roger reached out for Andy’s hand, and gave it a firm squeeze, which Andy returned, then rolled over to lie next to Roger. The two men looked at each other, and Andy looked away regretfully, because it was anything but just fucking. “Don’t.” Roger sighed. “This one on me.”  
Andy just nodded, rolling over. “I’ll bring something to clean us up.”  
He stumbled to the bathroom for a washcloth, and threw one at Roger, sitting at the bedside.  
Andy studied him for a long moment. “You have to eat something, Rog. I mean, Pierre’s right, you’re skinny to begin with.”  
“I have no appetite.” Roger said.

“This is normal for you, then, during heats? Not eating anything?”  
Roger shook his head. “Somewhat, not to this extent.”  
Andy nudged him  “Tell me what you think you CAN eat, I’ll go get it.”  
Roger thought for a moment. “Ice cream. It stays down. Everything else just - comes out one end or the other the minute I eat it. It’s horrible.”  
Andy cocked a brow. “Any particular taste?”  
Roger shrugged. “Chocolate? But - we can deliver for that, I guess.”  
Andy considered “I need fresh air. Maybe go and run a threadmill for a while at the club. I will bring back ice cream when I return. You good with that plan?”  
Roger looked up at him, uncertainty in his eyes, but nodded. “Yeah. I should be good for a couple of hours. I wish I could go, I’m dying to do something. This lack of activity is killing me. Usually I’d be at home for that, where I have privacy, a GYM, a tennis court, even. This is so frustrating.”  
Andy didn’t react. No way Roger could go out during a heat.  
He got up, and didn’t miss the way Roger looked at him as he stood up. “I’ll take the cell. It’s a good 20 minutes away, so call the moment you start getting antsy if I’m not back yet, kay?”  
Roger nodded, lying down on his stomach, propped his chin on his hands to watch Andy dressing. His eyes trailing over Andy’s body. Andy, feeling Roger’s eyes intent on him, turned sharply to catch him at it. “I really wish you wouldn’t stare at my ass like, it’s distracting, and it’s turning me on again, and your heat is a couple of hours away.”  
Roger blinked and flushed vivid red. “I’m - I’m sorry. I didn’t real-” He lowered his forehead to the bed. “Sorry.” He mumbled. “I didn’t realize I was - looking.”  
Andy pulled his pants all the way up, and sat down on the chair to do his shoelaces, then got up. “It’s okay. It’s not like I haven’t looked at you. You’re just confusing the hell out of me, that’s it.”

He walked over to Roger, whose head was still buried in the bed, and pecked lightly him on the top of his head. “Call me if anything goes wrong, don’t answer the door.” He then paused. “Roger, look at me.”  
Roger lifted his head and Andy’s eyes narrowed at him. “Promise me you won’t harm yourself in any way.”  
Roger flushed. “I wasn’t tryin-” He sighed. “Look, believe it or not, I wasn’t trying to hurt myself before. I was just being stupid and desperate. It won’t happen again.”

Andy looked at him for a second, then nodded and left the room.

 

\------

  
Feeling a lot better after a short run on the treadmill and some weight-lifting, he walked into the locker-room to change. It was Semi Final day. But the locker-room was still quite busy, what with double players around. The moment Andy stepped inside, he realized he possibly didn’t think it through, because he withdrew from the tournament, and questions will be asked. He didn’t even know what excuse was given for Roger’s withdrawel. Or who gave it. Fuck.

Half the room turned toward him. And he paled, because the looks were half appraising, half stunned, half jealous. Fuck. They knew. They KNEW. How could they have known.  
He walked toward Rafa, who was preparing for the match, and pulled him over by the elbow to a corner of the room. Rough. Rougher than he should have. “Rafa. What the fuck?”  
Rafa’s face were regretful. “Novak. When we got back downstairs. He wasn’t - his mind was - he was not thinking. He see troicki,  same floor like you. And Richard, too. And he’s talking. Talking too much. And I have to explain why he’s like that, why I am pushing him, no? Too big to keep a secret. So he tells Troicki, he tells Melo. He tells Gasquet. The tour knows. There are articles. In the paper.”  
“Fuck him. Fuck the little bastard. Why didn’t you call me?”  
“Isn’t good for Roger to know, no? Not right now.”  
Andy swore again in despair. Roger would be crushed, crushed, that it got out. Then he lifted his head, and Novak was standing there, and he had the good decency to flush red, when he saw Andy. Andy was onto him in a hurry, slamming him against the locker. “You fucking *cunt*. Son of a bitch.”  
“Gettoffme. I didn’t mean to tell, you know it’s impossible to think when there’s an Omega in heat around!”

Andy leaned over the younger man, who was his equal in height but not in weight, and not in anger. “How you reacted that night was normal and I can’t blame you for that, mostly. But you expect me to believe that five minutes afterwards and on another floor you still couldn’t control yourself? Fuck that. You wanted to tell on him. You wanted to feel like a big strong man. I will fucking hurt you for that. I will. Like you hurt him.” His arm was pressing on Novak’s windpipe, hard.  
Novak struggled, and eventually managed to shake him off a bit, coughing, his eyes burned of disdain. “What is wrong with you? You’re not with him, you’re just there to take the edge off and then he’ll come back to his wife. I will tell him I’m sorry. Really I am. But Roger can take care of himself, maybe not when he’s begging for your cock in him but otherwise- ouffff.”  
Andy’s fist collided with Novak’s stomach beautifully, and even though pain flared up his hand to his chin, the sight of Serb collapsing, breathless, choking, was extremely rewarding. He lifted his hand to hit him again, but then there was shouting, and they were pulled apart. And it was Tommy. that Fucker, Tommy again. Grabbing him from behind. “Andy gettoff. Come on!”  
Now normally, Tommy was as big and as strong as he did, but heat sex had the opposite effect on Alphas than it did on Omegas. It made them stronger, and Tommy wasn’t counting on that. He shook him easily, and hit Novak again. This time in the groin, and the serb groaned and did not get up from that. Crumbling to a miserable heap on the floor, wheezing.  
He glared at the room, Betas and Alphas, not one Omega in the room. After Roger, you had to get out of the top 150 to find an Omega. The locker-room was the place they told dirty jokes about Omegas and he inwardly closed his eyes against the shame of that, because he told more than few in his life, probably where Roger could hear.  
“I know the fact he’s an Omega just makes you all feel even more useless,  but maybe it should teach us all a lesson.”

He walked to the exit of the locker-room, not quite seeing anything, and as he was about to exit he came face to face with Mirka. Mirka who was in the locker-room, Mirka whose face was white and furious. Mirka, whose husband he had fucked at least 15 times in the past few days. Mirka, who left him to take care of Roger, who trusted him, and what a botch-up job he’s made of that. Mirka, whose baser instinct screamed at him was a rival, an enemy, someone to take out of the game.  
“Mirka.”  He took a step back, because no-no-no, what was she thinking, what was she doing here, and they were in public and fuck no. This could not end well.

  
Tommy had Mirka by the shoulder in an instant, and said something in German, but she brushed his hand aside and invaded Andy’s space and oh-nofuck no, because they were two alphas fighting over the same man, and he could end up hurting her.  
“Mirka, fucking don’t. Don’t do this. Just get out.” He choked out, because tension was coiling his body already. “Come on. the last thing I ever want to do is to hurt you.”  
Mirka shoved Tommy away again, and got in Andy’s face. While she wasn’t Sharapova’s height (who was?) She wasn’t exactly a short woman, either, and Andy was struck by how formidable she could be. “The last thing you want to do is hurt me? You mean more than you did already? Remember what I told you, when we talked on the phone? The last thing I told you!?”  
Andy closed his eyes. “Yes.” Because she told him not forget Roger is her’s. And while he hasn’t exactly forgotten, he didn’t quite remember, either.

“Then why did you forget?” She shoved him, hard, again, and he had to strain every muscle in him not to respond. “Why?”  
“I didn’t forget. Mir. I didn’t.” His voice was frozen. Empty, because how stupid was he, stupid to have left the hotel room, he had to know she would be waiting for him.  
“That’s not what I’m hearing. I know that you’re with my husband and I’m not. That’s what I know. And I know you can’t fucking quit him.” her voice was a menacing hiss, but there were tears in her eyes.  
“Mirka.” He hissed, mortified, because there were maybe 30 people in there. “Don’t do this. Not here, not now.”   
Mirka took a deep breath, then looked around the room, realizing the situation. “Move.” She ordered. “Lets take this outside.”

“I know where.”  
He crossed the corridor and knocked on the door of tournament referee, who stepped outside. From the way his eyes rounded, he was already aware of the whole thing. “Can we have the room for a couple of minutes?” Andy asked, his voice tight.“We need to have a private conversation.”  
The Tournament director, an Omega, hesitated. “I have valuable stuff here, I don’t want the room wrecked. Andy, Mirka. I’m Sorry.”

Tommy was at their backs. “They’re not alone, give them the room for a moment.”

The tournament director sighed. “Here.” He handed Mirka the key. “I’ll leave for a while. Lock it behind you when you leave, leave the key at the main office.”   
The minute they stepped inside, Andy rounded on her. ‘I can’t stay.I’ve been gone for too long.“  
“That’s fine.” She said, her voice cold. “Your responsibility has now officially ended. You needed my consent, as his mate. It is now withdrawn.”

Andy shook his head in horror, because no. Just. no. “You can’t do this. You already consented. It applies for the entire heat cycle.”

Her eyes narrowed, taking on a manic gleam.”In the states. Not in Monte Carlo. In here, an Omega’s mate may withdrawn his or hers consent for emergency-mating at any time, if they are present and willing to accept their responsibilities as alphas.” Her lips tightened. “I AM withdrawing it. Touch him again, I will press charges.”  
“Mir.” Tommy’s voice was appalled.”Come on, what are you doing. He was doing what you asked him to do.”

“This is *not* what I asked him to do!” She hissed.   
Andy paled, then his frown turned into a glare. “You got it wrong. You may withdraw your consent. I don’t have a clue about the laws here and I don’t care. But an alpha’s prerogative goes as far as consenting for an Omega, but that’s it.  It means neither the Omega nor his alpha can make rape charges if a consent was given by a the Omega’s mate. But no matter what, an Alpha can’t press charges instead of the Omega. Even if consent wasn’t given. Other than during the heat cycle, Roger is in charge of his own life, and only he can decide what to do, and this? He will never do.”  
He shook his head at the pain in her eyes. “Mir. Don’t do this. It won’t work. Mir, it won’t. Whatever you do, it won’t affect him.“  
“It fucking wIll work! I’m his wife. I’m his mate.”  
Andy’s voice was lodged in his throat. “I know that. I fucking know that. And he hasn’t forgotten, either. But you can’t help him during this heat, Mir. And I can’t step away right now, I physically can’t. In two more days, probably. Now - no. I will come after you. I can’t help it, I’m sorry. You’ll never know how much. We fucked it up, okay? we didn’t know what was going to happen, but we can’t change that now.”  
“I don’t care what you can and what you can’t do. I know that my husband needs me, that’s what I know.”  
“No, he doesn’t.” Andy said. “I’m sorry. but it’s true. He needs you to stay away, not to add to his guilt, because he’s suffering enough as it i-” the ring of his cell phone interrupted, and he took it out of his pocket to take a look. Roger. Fuck. Fuck. fuck. It’s been almost 2 hours.

He didn’t answer, but look at Mirka evenly. “Mir, I’m sorry. I HAVE to go.”  
Her eyes wandered to his phone. “Who is that? Is that Roger? Why is he calling?”  
“Why do you think?! Mirka, I can’t be delayed her. I can’t. Do you get it?! Or do you need me to paint you a fucking picture of what might happen if I won’t return. He paid enough of a price as it is.”  
Her face was a mask of anger.”You’re done. I will go to my husband, and you will go wherever you want to go, but you’ll stay away from us.”  
“You won’t go, and I can’t do what you’re asking of me.” He blocked her path, and her eyes narrowed. Tommy swore and got between them. “Stop it. Mirka. Mirka. Listen to him. He’s right. You will do more damage. Roger is in a bad enough place as it is.”  
“Everything will be fine.” She said, her voice shaking. “I know it will.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, shattered.  
Tommy grabbed her arm and pulled her away from Andy. “You can’t work against the biology of it, sweetheart. You love him, he loves you, but no way will sleeping with you in this heat cycle will quench the need of a heat. It would cause you both nothing but frustration.”  
She slapped him, hard. “Don’t you dare. I want to try. It’s worth it to try.”  
Tommy stood firm. “It’s two more days, Mir.”  
“One minute is too long.” She sniffed.  
Tommy, his eyes pained, glanced at Andy. “Andy. Maybe...”

Andy paled. “Don’t ask me that.”  
“I think it’s fucking useless, but I won’t stop her from trying. She’s his wife.”

“It won’t work. You know it won’t. You’re the one who told me it won’t work.”  
Tommy went to Andy, and put a hand on his shoulder. “I know. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he can switch, I don’t know. If he can, then they should try.”

Andy growled, he didn’t mean to, but he did, because the thought of separation from Roger, at that moment, was too horrible to endure.

  
The moment Tommy let go of Mirka and focused his attentions on Andy, Mirka bolted. Before either man could blink, she was out of the door, locking it behind her. Locking them inside.  
Andy called out after her, but no no avail. It took them 5 minutes to break the door down, and a part of him was horrified at what the tournament director would say, but it was too late. She was gone in her car, and no way was he catching up with her.

Tommy was at his back, his expression torn. He put a hand on Andy’s shoulder. “Come on, I lost this tournament in the quarters. lets go take a drive, get drunk or something.”  
“You’re fucking crazy. I’m going up there.” Andy whispered.   
“You’re not. I won’t let you, and I would force to stop you. If you clash with Mirka while Roger is there during his heat, you will end up killing her. You’re beyond territorial and so is she.   
The only reason why you didn’t get physical right now is because Roger is nowhere around. She’s no match for you. I know it’s difficult, but you have to use your head. You knew you had to give him up eventually, it’s just a little earlier than you expected.”  
“I’m so fucked.” Andy shuddered, “I’m fucking in love with him. I am. I can’t get him off my mind.”  
Tommy sighed. “I really hope it’s just the heat affect talking Andy, I really do, because he’s never leaving Mirka. Let me call Pierre and let him know what happened.”

 

An hour later, Andy was downing glass after glass of scotch, trying to get rid of the sharp, tearing longing in the pit of his belly. Tommy let him drink, but on the fourth cup he stopped him. “Enough. Your rationality is fucked enough as it is.”  
Pierre showed up moments afterward, his expression grave, and he rounded on Tommy. “How did you let this happen?” He let out an expletive in French.  
Tommy lowered his head. “Maybe she’s right, maybe she can make it work. I couldn’t bear to see her like that.”  
“It’s not going to work.” Said Pierre gravely. “You’re both Alphas and you don’t get it. It is doomed to fail.”  
“It was too much to ask of her.” Tommy argued. “She’s his mate for years and years, she can’t just hand over him.”  
“She already did. For the duration of this heat cycle, she did.” He shook his head, and gave Andy a long stare, lifting his chin, then glared at Tommy. “You’re trying to get him drunk?”  
“Got a better alternative?” Andy slurred.  
Pierre tsked. “Don’t get too drunk so you won’t function. If my calculations are correct, they will give it up in about three hours.”  
Both men looked up and Pierre swore again. “That’s right. You heard me. This isn’t going to work, and I’m truly afraid for them. For the state they would be in after. I tried to call Roger, but he didn’t pick up the phone.”

Andy frowned. “But - I mean. Roger, and I - I mean. He was - sore. He topped me, he said it’s what he usually does.And it worked for him, maybe not for long, but why shouldn’t it work again?”  
Pierre frowned. “It worked for what, 25 minutes, tops?”  
Andy nodded.”A little less, even.”  
Pierre sighed. “You can’t fuck every 25 minutes for 48 hours. In normal heat, where Omega and an Alpha assume their - lets say-  natural roles, you get a two hour-three hour break, to allow for some sleep and nutrition. When the Alpha is a female, you get less, it’s not 2 hours, but it’s not 20 minutes, either. It’s somewhere in between, and a few factors can make the intervals longer, for example the connection between the alpha and the Omega, or whether the Omega had lain with a male Alpha in the past, there are several other factors. In Roger and Mirka case, all those factors worked in their favor. But - when an Omega switches back and forth from a female alpha to a male alpha during one heat cycle, the body would be looking for something else, because it remembers there’s a better option out there. Moreover, Alphas playing the Omega role, which Mirka would be doing, would be physically unable do it without getting injured.”  
Andy winced. “I wouldn’t want to try this as a top, either. Not every 25 minutes.” He sighed. “So, you’re saying that’s what’s going to happen now?”’  
Pierre nodded. “The memory of his body is too fresh. So I wouldn’t go anywhere just yet, so I’d quit drinking.”  
Andy put the drink away, but he swallowed. “I don’t know if I can actually wait this out while I’m sober and consciousness. There’s like - it’s like a very very strong pull.” He pulled at his hair. “Correction, I’m sure that I can’t.”

He got up from the chair, and wobbled as the effect of the booz hit him. Tommy shot Pierre a glance. “See why I made him drink?” He grabbed Andy by the shoulders and sat him down, and pulled a pill from his pocket. “Here. Emergency Alpha suppressant, it would help. For a while.”  
Pierre shook his head. “If he needs to perform he’ll be useless after taking it. “  
Tommy waved his hand. “When I was near Roger when he went to heat they lasted like 20 minutes. It’s for emergency, to let the alpha a chance to get away if he or the Omega wanna fight the heat.”  
Andy looked at the pill suspiciously. “ I get violently sick when I take them. And with the booz...” He blinked his lips. “Take me to the hotel back, I will take it there. I have to be near a bathroom, not about to puke here.”  
The French and the German exchanged glances, and Tommy nodded. He helped Andy up, and helped him out of the pub and into Tommy’s car.

 

Back at the hotel, Andy was shaking, and they used force to get him into his own room, and not looking for the elevator. Tommy grabbed Andy’s hand, shoved the pill into his hand and barked. “Take if, for fuck’s sake.”   
Andy swallowed the pill without any water, and took a deep breath, then another.

His body relaxed for a moment, before coiling, and he raced to the bathroom. Slamming it behind him. Both men looked at each other, frowning at the sounds of the retching coming from the bathroom. At Pierre’s expression, Tommy raised his hands. “Hey, Don’t look at me. We’re not exactly best buddies. I’ll liquor him up and drug him to the gills in an act of Alpha brotherhood, but I’m not holding his hair up.” He snorted at his own joke, because Andy’s buzz required no holding.  
The Frenchmen sighed and swore in French. “What a  mess.” He looked at his watch. And Tommy quirked a brow. “It’s been a while. You think they might have been successful after all?”  
Pierre shook his head somberly. “No. I’m afraid it’s taking them too long to admit failure.”  
  
He sighed. “I’ll go look in on him.”  
He opened the bathroom door. Andy was crouching next to the toilet, throwing up and shaking. He was deathly pale.  He sat next to him. Andy lifted his head and choked.”Pierre. I appreciate it, but I don’t need an audience.”  
Pierre handed him a glass of water. “I’m not doing this for you. I just think it’s very possible you will need your strength later.”  
Andy swallowed the water, then spat into the toilet. “I - ugh.” He threw up again. “God.” He groaned.”I hate it so fucking much.” He closed the lid, and rested his forehead on the lid for a second before dragging himself wearily to seat on the toilet seat. “If only Roger could take emergency suppressants without getting himself banned. It’s so unfair that this shit is legal while his isn’t.”  
Pierre sighed. “Different hormones. What you’re taking would have a negative effect on you while playing,  Omega emergency suppressants has Alpha testosterone in them. It’s performance inducing.”  
Andy let out a little snort. “Scary to ponder the thought he might have been even better if he was an Alpha. You’re his trainer, how the hell is it possible? No Omega player had ever won a slam before he did. There are barely any Omega in the top 50 in the open era. I knew he wasn’t an alpha, because he’s - well, he’s not an alpha. But I assumed he was a beta.”  
The older Frenchmen shrugged.”He was brought up to believe he can do anything. And a lot of it is a prejudices anyway. But he is special, no doubt about that.” He gave Andy the look over. “You look ‘orrible. Go take a shower.”  
Andy nodded wearily, and pushed himself up. The nausea was slightly reduced, but he was mostly relieved the sting of the pull had abated. “Tell Tommy I said thanks for the pill.”  
Pierre was about to walk out, then he turned to Andy, a curious look on his face. “Andy. May I ask you a question.”  
Andy leaned on the wall tiredly. “Shoot.”  
“Your feelings. For Roger. You’re on suppressants now, are they still there?”  
Something unreadable flashed in Andy’s eyes, and leaned his head back against the wall with a thump. “God. I did not - consider that. Yes, it’s still there. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I guess there goes the hope it was just the heat I was feeling.” He looked away. “Gee. Thanks for that, dude. Now get out.”  
Pierre looked at his regretfully, but said no more, and stepped out.  
Inside, Andy let the water run and stood under the hot stream for a long moment, before punching the wall with his fist, again and again, until his knuckles bruised and bled.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Andy stood under the water for a long time, when he heard the faint sound of Pierre’s cell-phone, and Mirka’s name uttered, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped into the room. Pierre was on the phone, listening, and his face was ashen. He closed his eyes.  
“Go to Sara. We’ll go over there right now. We should be there in five.”  
“What do you want me to tell you? I don’t see any other alternatives. You should have made this call an hour ago. Are you two alright?”  
“Okay."The Frenchman sighed. "At least that. Listen to me, and go to Sarah. Go right now. Don’t be there when we arrive.”

He closed the phone and turned to Andy, his face in a hard line. “Dress up.”  
Andy paled. “I took the pill.”  
Tommy waved his hand. “Emergency Heat counters don’t make you impotent, they just give you the willpower to resist an Omega’s heat. And it’s going to take a moment to stop working anyway if he’s far gone into it.”  
He looked at Pierre. “You’re going to check up on him?”  
Pierre shook his head. “Roger said Andy only, or that’s what Mirka said.” He sighed. “I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t want anyone who isn’t my al..” He glanced at Andy and flushed a little. “Well, who isn’t an Alpha to see me in heat, and anyway - “ He rubbed at his face. “There’s only one thing that’s going to help him anyway.” He gave Andy a hard look. “He’ll be pretty keyed up. Don’t waste time on being gentle, that’s not what he needs.”  
Andy fidget, suddenly nervous. “Fine. I don’t need a fucking instruction manual. I know what to do.”  
Pierre shook his head. “I’m not sure that you do. It won’t be like before. If you had any instincts you were fighting before. This is not the time to keep fighting them. He’ll need you to be an Alpha.”  
Tommy startled “Pierre…”,  
Pierre rounded at him, his french accent clear in his distressed English. “Shut up, you don’t know anything, when was the last time you fucked an Omega after five hours of frustration?!”  
Tommy sighed. “Never, " He replied honestly. "Never after so long. Not mid-heat, anyway.” He shook his head and glared at Andy. “Fine. Go. Try not to make things worse.”  
Andy gave Pierre a hesitant look, took his card key, and was up in the elevator in a minute.  
The moment he stepped out of the elevator at the top floor, he was assailed with the sharp, sweet scent of an Omega. Of Roger. His mouth watered. Sara was waiting near the door, her expression anxious and slightly annoyed. “Here.” She thrusted the card key in his hand. “Good luck.”  
“Woah.” He stopped her. “You pissed at me or what?”  
“No.” The blond sighed. “Just the situation.” She gave him a look that was a touch short of a glare. “Don’t come between them.”  
Andy gave her a dark look. “I didn’t plan to, but I think I already have. Just make sure she won’t come anywhere near here.”  
Andy took the key, and entered the room. His stomach rolled from the scent of Roger with an Alpha who wasn’t him, and he wondered for a fleeting moment how it was for Mirka entering that room earlier, when it reeked of Roger and himself, and squashed down the feeling of smugness. “Rog.” He called out. The room was dark. “Rog-ouf!!”  
Roger basically jumped at him, almost knocking him to the ground, naked and sweaty and crazed, his eyes burning with a manic glow of an Omega too far gone into his heat. Mindless for anything else.  
He rubbed against him, groaning, scenting Andy. Whimpering into Andy’s neck as he clung to him, tearing his shirt off. “Woah. Rog. Rog wai-” Andy groaned. There was no use, Roger wasn’t hearing him at all, and he was struggling with Andy’s pants, reaching to him from through the fabric, then under it, palming him roughly with a warm and callous hand. The moment skin touched skin, Andy felt the last remains of the suppressants fade away as his nerves inflamed and swore as blood pooled directly from his heart to his groin in harsh thumps of sharp arousal, and he twitched in Roger’s hand. Fuck. Fuck.  
He groaned as he debated for a second whether he could go on doing that, just hump Roger’s hand, but at Roger rubbing against his thigh, he came back to his senses.  
He grabbed Roger’s hands with his right hand by the wrists, held them over Roger’s head, and pushed Roger against the wall, kissing him roughly He slide his other hand down the Swiss’s body, and Roger shuddered as it made her way down, and at Andy’s touch, Andy could see a flash of awareness. “Andy?” He groaned in desperation. “Please. Please. I’m sorry. Please. I tried I - I’m burning up. I need it - fuc-” He choked on a as he rubbed against Andy’s hand. “Fuck I need it. God.” He moaned as he clung at him. “I can’t anymore. It hurts.”  
“I know it does. Shush.” Andy said, gruffly. “Let me take care of you.”  
Heeding Pierre's warning to let his Alpha instincts take over, he turned Roger, so he was face down toward the wall, still holding his hands over his head, spread his legs, positioned, and was in him with one long exquisite stroke, groaning hard as he did, and then he lost his mind.  
He fastened his teeth to Roger’s neck and bit him hard as he started fucking him, hard, his balls slapping against Roger’s ass with every single thrust, wanting to possess and make claim, remove all scent of another alpha. “You’re fucking mine. Mineminemine.” And he didn’t know what he was saying, or maybe he did. It didn’t matter, all that matter is how fucking, fucking good it felt.  
Roger pushed back against him, panting harshly, his forehead leaning against the wall, whimpering at the intensity of every thrust. When Andy rolled his hips, trying to get even deeper in him, Roger shuddered violently, and came in a ferocious orgasm without as much as a hand on him. He made a sound that distinctly sounded like a sob, his legs nearly caving.  
Andy let go of his hands to allow him to brace himself against the wall, but he wasn’t even nearly done, maybe the pills was still slowing his reaction, or maybe it was the booze. because his orgasm was at bay, or maybe his body just called for more of the fucking.  
So he fucked on, short, puncturing jabs, his face buried in Roger’s moist curls at the back of his neck. Could he have stopped if Roger needed him to? Probably not, but it didn’t matter, because Roger apparently did not not need or want a break, instead he panted. “More!” and ‘Harder!”, and Andy pulled out all the way, and shoved back in him, his hands clasping at Roger’s hips, his body thrumming with red hot desire.  
From the voices Roger was making, he was doing it just right. He couldn’t do more but growl into his hair and occasionally nuzzle at the side of his face. When he felt his orgasm approaching, he pulled out, to Roger’s gasp and cry of frustration, and pushed him to the bed, face down, and was in him again, and Roger curled his legs so they were on Andy’s calves, and arched his ass up in an act of total submission. Andy let out a groan that sounded like Roger’s name, and then his orgasm took him. His spine liquidating as he came what felt like forever, pressing deeper, out of control. And fuck, that had to hurt him, but he couldn’t help it.  
And Roger did gasp hoarsely at that, but it wasn’t exactly a gasp of pain, and Andy, still undone with his orgasm, watched Roger as he convoluted and wailed as the snug press against his prostate as Andy knotted him made him crack open again, as he came in waves of ecstasy.  
Andy didn’t quite pass out this time, but his limbs felt like lead as he slumped against Roger. Still buried in him. Pleasure coursing through his body. It felt like a jagged corner of his heart, the one he felt when Mirka locked him in that room, was smoothed over again. His mind slowly clearing from the haze.  
Underneath him, Roger was warm and sweaty, his breathing ragged, and his body was wrecked with shudders every couple of minutes. He didn’t move an inch, face buried into the mattress. Any other time, Andy would kiss and nuzzle and relish on the afterglow, but there was a tenseness in Roger’s shoulder that wasn’t due to the fact Andy was buried knot deep in him.  
He moved his head fractionally to the side, resting his head on Roger’s shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of Roger’s face. “Rog.” He whispered, himself again. “Roger?”  
Roger’s eyes were open and wet, the manic, heat-induced gleam gone for the time being.  
Andy, carefully, moved a caressing thumb from mouth to wet cheekbone, and Roger’s breath hitched, then caved with a huge gulp of breath. “Oh. God.” He whimpered. “Oh- God.”  
“Shit, okay - ” Andy kissed the back of his neck, realizing with a start at the deep bite mark and mouthed an inaudible fuck. “You’re yourself again?”  
Roger shook his head, and buried his face deeper into the mattress. His hands clasped the pillow, their knuckles white. He then raised his his head.“What happened? What happened?!”  
Andy rose slightly on his hands and knees, so he could look at Roger. “You - you don’t remember?”  
“No. No! I - Mirka. She was here. She was here - and we -” He let out a ragged breath. “It wasn’t working. It wasn’t. I - Oh FUCK.” His voice broke, and he tensed up completely, causing Andy to gasp. “Jesus. Roger.”  
He brushed away the moist hair from Roger’s sticky forehead. “Look. I don’t - I don’t know exactly-what happened. but - Fuck. Roger, I’m turning us over. It’s beyond uncomfortable to discuss anything like that.”  
He carefully pulled Roger in his arms, and turned them over to the side. Then he wrapped his arms around Roger’s chest and tucked his chin on his shoulder. “It’s alright.” He murmured soothingly in Roger’s ear, and was mad at himself for the obvious lie, because no, it wasn’t fucking alright, least of all to Roger.  
“How could I do this.” Roger said, his voice empty and hoarse. “It’s never going to be okay. Never.”  
“It’s my fault.” Andy said, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have left. She was waiting for me. She used a - moment of distraction and...I’m sorry. She wasn’t exactly thinking. It was a dumb thing to do, to go outside.”  
Roger wiggled slightly. “How long? How long was I -”  
“Five hours. Do you remember what happened?”  
Roger closed his eyes. “We tried. I - it didn’t matter what we did. I was mad with heat all the time. It didn’t stop, there was no -no letup. We got - we got too exhausted.”  
He turned his head sharply toward Andy, his eyes opening wide. “Is Mir alright? I don’t - God. Andy. I think I was, too rough and..”  
“I haven’t talked to her.” Andy said. “She talked to Pierre, but I think that - she’s physically fine. More or less. And was somehow sane enough to put an end to it.” He bit his lip. “I’m not sure it’s the same for you. You’re bruised all over, Roger.” He pressed his lips to where he had bitten him earlier. “I don’t think I helped with that.” He mumbled.  
Roger swallowed on his tears. “We didn’t even get a chance to talk. By the time she got here, I was crazed with it. We didn’t talk about - about anything.” He buried his face in his hands. “I don’t even know when she left to call Pierre. I don’t remember it at all, I don’t think I remember much of the last couple of hours.” He started to shake again and Andy swallowed, because what could he say? That’s he’s sorry? He wasn’t. Those five hours were maddening, even with the suppressants.  
He reached down, and with his feet grabbed the blanket which crumpled in a heap at the edge of the bed, and thumbed it over to them, then covered both of them with the heavy fabric and tightened his arms around Roger again. “You should rest.”  
Roger shook his head. “No - I. I have to call her. I have -”  
“No. You fucking won’t!” Andy snarled. “She knows what this is about. This is only going to make it worse.” He sighed. “Roger. We have two more days. Lets try to get through with minimal damage to everyone, least of all to ourselves.”  
From his position, he could see the twitch of Roger’s jaw. “Andy. Pull out, I can feel that you already can.”  
Andy swallowed, but it was no lie. To be honest he had relished the intimacy of the knotting. He didn’t reply, but pulled out very carefully, careful of Roger’s gasp and sigh, because the fucking was brutal.  
Roger turned to him, his expression tight, and Andy flushed. “Sorry - I.” He closed his eyes. “I - I’m sorry.” He moved a hand across his face. “You feel good and I’m only human.”  
Roger’s eyes were heavy on him, then he moved closer to Andy. Close enough for their shoulders to tough, and slipped his hands around Andy’s waist. His expression was wary. “You - how was it? The last few hours, for you I mean.” He frowned. “You didn’t burst in here or anything. That’s what I thought - that what we thought would happen, right? It’s good, right? It means you could handle it fine.”  
Andy bit his lip. “Not so much, no. I took emergency suppressants. Tommy gave me his batch. It helped somewhat. So no, it doesn’t mean I could handle it just fine. I couldn’t.”  
Roger frowned. “I thought they made you ill?”  
“They did. It was better - “ He looked away, still mindful of Roger’s large and warm hands on his waist. “Puking was better than the alternative, I couldn’t take it.”  
“And what was it like?”  
Andy blinked away. Shame flooding him.  
Roger had his hand on his chin, and made him look back at him. “Andy? What was it like?”  
“Agony. It was fucking agony. Alright?! Like there’s a hole where your hear-”  
He stopped instantly, and pulled away, but Roger’s grip became insistent. “And with the suppressants? Did it go away? Andy - did it go away?!”  
Andy closed his eyes at the sting of it. “No. It was still painful, but of a saner variety. Not the mindless jealousy attack, where I imagined myself bursting in here, tying your wife to a chair, and make her watch as I fuck you so hard you scream my name. I could think straight, I still missed you so bad I could fucking taste it!”  
Roger stared at him, flushed and pained, and Andy laughed bitterly. “Why the hell are you even asking? You don’t want to hear this, and I don’t want to burden you with it, so drop it.” He rolled off the bed, then stopped and looked at Roger. “You can’t handle the truth, so stop badgering me for it.”  
A part of him winced at the cliche, but he still walked to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.  
Moments later, just as Andy stepped under the water, the bathroom door opened, and Roger walked in. He hadn’t put a stitch of clothing on himself. Instead, he stepped into the shower with him. Andy started, his throat drying. Roger made a little sound and leaned his forehead on Andy’s wet shoulder. “I’m tired.” He mumbled. “And I’m really sore, and I need a shower, and I’m sad and lonely and confused. I spent the morning with you, then with my wife, then with you again. And I don’t know what I feel guiltier about anymore. Maybe you’re right, maybe I can’t handle what you feel, but I don’t want you to run away and to know it’s because of me. I’m beginning to feel guilty about what I’m doing to you too.” He sighed. “I can’t - I can’t fix things with Mirka, not right now. But I don’t - I made - a certain choice, and - I have to follow through with it.”  
Andy licked his lips. “Rog. I can’t help you feel better. I can barely help myself.”  
Roger moved his head lamely against his wet shoulder. “I just need to be near you. Is it the heat, or is it other things? I don’t know the answer. But I can’t - I can’t resist it ”  
Andy looked to the ceiling in desperation, and buried his fingers in Roger’s hair.“  
“Rog… “ He murmured through gritted teeth. “You’re really not helping me to be the bigger man here. I’ll be damned if I’m going to touch you and then have to apologize for that. It’s tiring, and it’s fucking unfair to me.”  
Roger didn’t say anything for a second, then mumbled into his shoulder. “I know. Do you want me to go?”  
“No.” Andy choked. “But you should go anyway. You’re not in a heat wave and there’s no excus-oh.” His breath stopped as Roger moved his head from his shoulder and burrowed into his neck, clinging to him. “I don’t want sex.” Roger mumbled. “Not now. I just want this. Contact. That’s all. Please.”  
Andy sighed as Roger melted his resistances, one by one. Slowly, he slid his arms around the Swiss. Roger sighed softly as he tightened his grip on Andy, and Andy did the same.  
Andy ran his hands on the curve of Roger’s back, the ridge between his shoulder blades. He moved slightly, so they were both under the water, and washed Roger’s hair, rubbing his scalp, then very softly - the rest of his body, careful where he was bruised and tender. Roger didn’t move an inch, just leaned on Andy, head tucked in the crook of his neck. sighing softly, tensing when Andy reached between his legs, then relaxed at the delicate, careful touch. Andy was happy he was washed up for a while, or touching Roger there would have turned the whole thing very sexual, very fast.  
More and more, Roger sank into him, his head slightly lolling as Andy rubbed his shoulders. “Hey.” Andy asked. “You’re sleepy?”  
“Hmmm.”  
“Jesus. Rog, lets move into the bedroom, so you can sleep properly, it’s not like there’s a lot of time left.”  
Roger, exhausted, did not stir, his body turning more heavy by the moment. Andy swore as he held on to him. “Um, Rog. Bedroom? You’re not a girl, I can’t carry you to bed, you weight 187 pounds!”  
“Serena probably weigh as much, she’s a girl.” Roger mumbled.  
“She’ll rip your head off for saying that she weigh as much as you, and I fucking promise you, I wouldn’t carry *her*.”  
Roger lifted his head wearily. “You’re not her alpha.”  
Andy shook at that like he was zapped with wire, because that sliced him to the very core. The words were lodged in his throat for a while before he could get them out. “Am I yours?”  
Roger looked at him for the longest of time, but probably not more than a second, then shrugged tiredly. “I don’t know what else to call it, do you?  
Andy’s hand grasped his hair, hard, and pulled him closer, close enough for their noses to touch. “Come to bed, then.” He husked, his voice low.  
Roger gave the smallest of nods before Andy wrapped an arm on the back of his thighs, and picked him up, grunting from the effort. Roger gasped and wrapped both arms around his neck. Andy kicked open the door, and carried him all the way through the bathroom and to the bed, never breaking eye contact, then placed him in the middle of the bed and sort of fell on top of him, one naked, wet body over another. “Ouf.” He tried to smile, even though underneath him Roger was flushed, breathing fast. “You weigh a ton.”  
Roger shuddered in his arms, not responding the quip, and Andy turned serious at once. “Rog. Why did you want me to do that?”  
Roger bit his lip. “I think - I think it - what you did, I think it appeases some kind of Omega instinct I didn’t know I had.”  
Andy frowned. “One you didn’t know you had before?”  
Roger shook his head, then put his hand on the top of Andy’s head, pulling him closer so that his face rested in the curve of Roger’s shoulder and curled against him. “I know I’m acting really strange. I can’t explain it. I just - can we not talk about it? I want to sleep a little.”. His eyes closed almost instantly. “I’ve had no sleep since we woke up this morning. I’m tired. I’m so tired.”  
Andy nuzzled his neck slightly, deciding to just go with it, he was physically incapable of saying no to him or to question him. “Like that? I’m crushing you.”  
“No. It feels good. You’re warm and heavy.” And it’s how Roger wanted it, that much was clear.  
Andy sighed, and allowed his head to drop, getting comfortable around Roger, willing his begining-to-come-alive erection still. He knew what Roger was talking about. The whole thing was stroking his protective alpha instincts like crazy.  
Doing anything that pleased Roger felt good. Fuck. Being on top of Roger, using his body weight to pin him to the bed felt even better. Empowering and nurturing all at the same time. Was that what he missed out on in all those years he stayed clear away from Omegas? Was it a Roger thing?  
He allowed his body to relax around and on top of Roger, who let out a soft grunt, but bore the weight just fine. He lied there awake, feeling Roger’s breathing evening out, and the last thing he remembered was the way Roger leaned his feet against his calf, and that his leg was warm.

\----

He woke up IN Roger. Not hard, not rutting against him, actually mid fuck.  
What he, for a moment, assumed was the most realistic wet dream he’s ever, turned into reality as he opened his eyes, groaning and stunned, because what-the-hell and was-it-possible?  
Roger was underneath him, eyes closed, legs crossed on his ass, arching up at him. “Roger - fuck.” He pulled himself a little further and rolled his hips, just to gauge how alert Roger actually was, and Roger omitted a deep sigh, but didn’t open his eyes.  
Judging by the smell and the wetness between them, Roger was in the middle of the heat spell for a while. How long were they doing it, rubbing against each other in their sleep? In the dream it felt like a while, but in reality could have been like ten seconds. They were sleeping naked on top of each other, it wouldn’t take much,  
He liked that position. While fucking an Omega face down was a more natural choice for any alpha, he had a soft spot for this position. He liked watching what he was doing, he liked to see the expression on Roger’s face, and he liked to be able to touch him while doing this. So he reached out to stroke him, lightly. Roger twitched and spasmed, and his eyes flew open on a muffled, surprised cry. “Better.” Andy said, because he felt strangely in control, only not really. “Awake now?”  
Roger’s eyes,puffy from insufficient sleep, shifted left and right, even as he moaned and ground himself on Andy’s dick, and for a second Andy was alarmed. “Hey.” He stopped rocking. “You with me?”  
“Ngh.” Roger choked out. “I think. I thought I was dream - Oh.” He winced and wiggled his hips, trying to adjust the position.  
Andy pulled out slightly, then reached out to support the small of Roger’s back to put a pillow underneath him. He squeezed his upper thigh. “That’s better?”  
Roger let out a relieved sigh. “Oh. Yes.” He closed his eyes again, it was clear to Andy that in his exhausted state, the line between total awareness and the cusp of sleep was pretty blurry, and he decided not to stress the issue. It isn’t like Roger was going to say no if he was awake.  
He leaned down again, and started fucking him, as slow as he could possibly manage in a heat. They were pretty brutal before, and his hips, not to mention his dick, were coming unhinged. He couldn’t imagine how Roger was feeling, in spite of the natural lube his body provided during a heat.  
Roger gave little groans and small thrust of his hips upwards, like he couldn’t quite get the energy to move. Andy stroked his hair from his face, and Roger opened his eyes, and now Andy could see he was awake and aware. “Andy- fas-faster. I can barely move.”  
Andy frowned. “I think you’re just about at the end of what you can take.”  
Roger closed his eyes and groaned. “I - I can’t come like this. I need everything STRONGER during a heat.”  
“Yeah. You can. You just need to let it build.”  
“Guh.”  
Andy reached out to him again, and just stroked him steadily, while keeping on with the rhythmic, slow fucking. His staying prowess was minimal during the last fortnight, he was determined to do better now.  
He deepen the thrusting, but kept it slow. Roger shuddered and shook, whimpering helplessly, leaking on Andy’s hand, but no, not coming. Andy was starting to have a hard time controlling himself.  
He bent down, and moved his lips across Roger’s. They parted for him, and so did his eyes. He leaned his forehead on Roger’s, and kissed him really, really softly, tasting his mouth with his lips and tongue. Roger groaned at that, and uttered a soft. “Yes.” So Andy took it to mean he should keep doing that. They’ve done some zero exploring with each other, it was always about the straight up fucking. The fact he could take it relatively slow, and that his head was clear made him wonder whether Roger’s heat was ebbing ever so slightly.  
“Andy!” Roger wailed in frustration. “Please. Pick it up.”  
“Shush. I won’t. You can’t take it.” He continued to rock into him in an even pace.  
“I can’t take this either!”  
Andy lowered his head to Roger’s nipple, and gave one a flick with his tongue. Roger shouted, actually shouted at that, and the small nub hardened immediately underneath. “No, don’t.” Roger sobbed out.  
Andy lifted his head. “What? Why, you like it.”  
Roger’s expression was so raw, that Andy didn’t push it. “Okay. Come here.”  
He sped up both his strokes, and his fucking, by just a fraction, and bit on Roger’s lower lip. That was enough to send Roger over the edge. He cried out, and pulsed out a drizzle of cum. His exhausted body finally protesting. Shuddering hard. A second afterward Andy felt his knot beginning to form, and pulled out carefully with a tight cry.  
“Andy, what the -”  
Andy twisted away, in pain now, because he was so hard, and knotting outside of an Omega body was downright PAINFUL. “You’re done.” Andy choked out. “Enough with the knottin - Oh fucking Christ.” His spine arched as he gritted his teeth, because your own hand was no good for a knot. “Ah. SHIT.”  
Roger sat down in bed, more alert and together than Andy’s seen him in a while. “That was stupid.” He told him, and then he had his hand on Andy’s shoulder, and he sprawled him down on the bed, and straddled him. “Really stupid.” Andy couldn’t disagree, but this was AGONY. He was so fucking hard.  
He saw Roger’s worried frown. “That doesn’t go back in.”  
Andy let out a choked chortle. “No, I wouldn’t fucking think so. Just leave it alone - Ah, it. It will eventually go down.”  
Roger made a face. “Right.” He bit his lip. “I’ve never done this before.”  
“Done wha-Oh.”  
Roger bent his head down, and his lips were flush against his dick, warm and tight and God. God. He put his hands on Roger’s head and thrust, He didn’t mean to but FUCK.  
Roger.  
Roger choked and pulled his head away, and gave Andy a deadly look, one Andy was almost happy to see, because it reminded him of the man he thought he knew, a minute before Mirka’s phone call came, days ago. A little haughty, a little playful, almost always optimistic.  
“Do that again, you’ll probably end up with teeth mark on it. That’s probably going to cause issues for us later on, so watch it.”  
Andy swallowed. “Sorry. Sorry, you really caught me off guard. You don’t have to do this.”  
Roger’s eyes softened on him. “Andy. Shut up.”  
He bent his head again and suckled Andy softly, keeping his hands on Andy’s waist this time, making sure he wouldn’t lose it again.  
It was a rather inexperienced form of sucking, but the careful explorations shot right down to Andy’s balls, as he watched through hooded eyes. His hand tightened on the sheet and he groaned, his head dropping back. “Roger.” Andy groaned. “Can you - can you use a little more suction.”  
The next thing Andy knew, was that the sensation of sucking intensified tenfold, and he bucked again, stopped by Roger’s hands this time. “Oh. Oh. Oh.” Roger wasn’t even close to taking the knot in though, and it was unlikely he could, and it was painful enough for Andy to actually lose his erection slightly, because that thing needed pressure. But then Roger, reading either his mind of the situation, got a hand around him, and squeezed him hard while sucking at the head. And the sensation was enough to kick Andy over the edge, and no, no change for warning or anything like that, and Roger’s lips were still on him when he shot right into that warmth. “Ah-Ah-Fuck FUCK.” His bucked his hips again and again, and this time Roger took it, while keeping his hand clasped tightly around the base of his dick. Taking it like the fucking champ he was.  
“Oh Jesus.” He cried out, bucking his hips, and hissed because God, at this point he should be buried inside Roger. It was only Roger’s hand, still clasped around his dick like a vice, that kept it somewhat bearable.”Don-don’t let go.”  
“Not letting go. Fuck, Andy. That was so stupid, it would just bring on the next wave faster, if you’re on in me. I could have taken it.”  
“Yeah, yeah. You have an indestructible asshole. Now, less lectures, more bicep power, Superman.”  
Roger snorted softly and rearranged himself to get a better grip, so they were lying on the bed face to face. Andy’s eyes were shut close against the pain, but he opened them when felt Roger’s lips, and the taste of his own come, on his own lips, and Roger’s hand on him gave a little twitch, like a squeeze within a squeeze.  
“Do NOT get me going again. I will NEVER get soft like that. Unless you want to put your asshole to the test outside of a heat, just keep the hand steady.” His voice came out rather sharp, more than he meant.  
Roger withdrew slightly. “Sorry.” In a voice that wasn’t all too sorry, and it wasn’t like Roger was soft all the way down, like he should have been so soon after heat sex.  
Andy closed his eyes, trying to fight against the discomfort, and he was grateful that Roger wasn’t talking, or touching him elsewhere, because any other touch would have just provoked him.  
Rather quickly, his knot softened enough to Roger to gently release him. Andy took a huge breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding, and opened his eyes. Roger’s eyes were watching him, serious, but all any could notice were those puffed up lips. Fuck. How could he NOT imagine them on his.. fuck fuck fuck.  
He closed his eyes, then opened them again. “We’re pretty screwed.”  
“Yeah.” Roger said softly. “I think we already came to that conclusion.”  
Andy swallowed. “I think your heat is on a downward slope. We could - have a rational discussion. I think tomorrow - that would be it.”  
Roger nodded. “Yeah. Physically it feels the same but - the mind is less hazy.” He took a shuddering breath. “That doesn’t make it easier, the awareness.”  
Andy flinched, and Roger put a hand on his cheek. “Don’t take it like that.”  
“I’m not.” Liar. “I don’t blame you.” Liar.  
Roger quirked a brow. “You ‘understand, right?”  
Andy closed his eyes. “Do you have a sense of Deja-vu from this discussion? Because I do.” He glanced at the watch. “We weren’t asleep for that long, you should still rest.” Roger huffed slightly. “Whenever we hit a rough spot, you send me to bed without my supper.”  
Andy glowered. “Is that your way of saying you’re hungry? Good, then maybe you can occupy your mouth with something that isn’t about rehashing stuff we can’t do anything about.”  
Roger looked him straight in the eyes. “I think I already did that.”  
Andy’s eyes widened, because he didn’t mean the innuendo. “I hate Roger the cock-tease worse than I hate the needy, teary one who needed to be carried to be-” He stopped himself a fraction too late, and watched the impact of his words sliced through Roger, who whitened, then reddened.  
“Don’t worry.” Roger said as he sat up in bed, his tone clipped. “Pretty soon, you won’t have to deal with a flirty, needy weepy, horny Omega. “ He put his pants back on. “You could go back to being what you know best. An envious, brooding stalker.”  
Roger jumped off the bed and was about to walk out there, and then he stopped, and turned. Andy was lying in bed, face down. He walked back to him, and sat down. And for a long time, neither said anything. “That was a pretty cruel thing to say.” Roger said. “I’m I deserved it. I am flirting, and I am tormenting you. It gives me a sense of power whenever I feel helpless and confused, which is all the time.” He looked away.  
“Stop.” Andy croaked. “I was an ass. The carrying thing, I mean. I know it’s an Omega thing kicked into action by the fact you’re with an alpha male right now. The need for someone to take care of you. Someone who is physically stronger and can do it.” He turned to him. “Mirka has other ways of achieving the same goal, I imagine.”  
Roger nodded, his throat dry. He didn’t elaborate.  
Andy turned back to his back. “When I did it, I - I enjoyed it. It felt good in a way I can’t quite explain. It was a low blow. You caught me by surprise there. I - you were never the one who make dirty jokes, I don’t know you to be like that.”  
Roger let out a soft sound. “You never slept with me before.”  
Andy rolled to his back. “Fair point.”  
Roger touched his cheek. “I didn’t mean any of what I said. I said it to hurt you.”  
Andy let a little shrug, that couldn’t quite mask the pain. “It’s not wrong. As far as you were concerned, I was jealous, then brooding. Mostly about the tennis, a bit about other things. Stalking I never did though.” He reached out to take Roger’s hand in his, then used Roger’s warm palm to shield his eyes, so he wouldn’t see him. “I can’t make any promises about from now on. I have no freaking clue how I will let you go when your heat is over. No idea. If I wasn’t jealous, brooding and stalking before…I can’t do that. I can’t be that man. I can’t. I won’t.”  
He was taking big gulps of air, into Roger’s hand, using it as he would use his own.  
“We will figure it out.” Roger whispered. “I swear it.”  
“Right.” Andy’s voice was hollow to his own ears, and took Roger’s hand off his face. “Are you going to leave your wife for me, Roger?” And fuck, to finally put the question out there so plainly was liberating as much as it was scary painful. “Because if the answer is no, then no, we won’t figure it out.”  
Roger sighed and bowed his head, putting his hands on his knees, and when he looked back at Andy, his look was despairing. “Is that - is that what you’re asking me. Is that what you really want?”  
“I - fuck. I don’t know. And if I do?”  
Roger smiled a wry smile. “So, in your mind, we go on, like normal, play on tour, like we always did, only we’ll do that together. You’ll give me pep talks when I lose to Rafa, and when we play each other I’ll -” He stopped for a second, then looked at Andy, his expression odd. “Well, that would definitely change things.”  
Andy snorted. “Oh, really. Why should it?”  
Roger shrugged. “As far as I know, Omegas have issues besting their alphas.”  
Andy gave him a puzzled look. “What? You were always an Omega and I was always an alpha, like 75% of the tour. Never stopped you before.”  
“An alpha, yeah. Not *my* alpha. I’d probably lose to Mirka had I played against her in mixed doubles or something. The submission thing, I - “  
He swallowed. “Funny. I never considered it before.”  
“Right.” Andy said, looking toward the ceiling of the room. “I guess you can add that into the ‘con’ column.”  
Roger frowned at him. “That’s not what I meant, and that wouldn’t be why. I’m just saying is that you haven’t thought it through.”  
“The tour isn’t forever.” Andy protested.  
“I have no plans to retire in a while. And lets assume we both retire tomorrow - do you like Switzerland much? Or do you expect me to tug after you to the states, like a good little Omega?”  
Roger’s tone was harsh.  
Andy looked at him, then away. “If you ask me if I have ours live together planned already, the answer is no. I don’t know if this decision is about living arrangements, though. And no, for the record, I’m sure we could have found a workable solution.”  
Roger sighed. “You have feelings for me, and I get it, I do, and I god knows I - that you’re not alone in this. I think this much is plain.“ He said faintly. “But there are more considerations here than what we feel.” He looked at Andy. “It’s not just that I’m married and bonded with Mirka, is that we’ve been together for years and years and built an entire life together, and I love her. And it’s a lot to put aside and decide ‘Yeah, I’m going to dump my wife to embark on an adventure, with a guy who is fucking amazing and makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, but a lot of what I need he probably can’t give me and I can’t ask him to, either.”  
He looked at Andy, his expression torn. “Tell me I’m getting it wrong. Tell me you have some different outlook on this than me. Tell me that, if you can!”  
Andy wiped at his face, then looked at him. “Can you be without me? I mean, I can’t deny anything you’re saying, there are probably a million and one things I haven’t thought of, but I’m telling you that I don’t think I can give you up, so for me, nothing else matters.”  
Roger sighed hugely, his expression was shattered. “I - I don’t know. I won’t be in heat next week. Does it feel beyond the heat right now? Yeah. It does. Is that feeling something that would go away with time, if I go back to my wife? I don’t know.” He swallowed. “I hope so, I’m praying it would, or we’re gonna wreck lives, ours, Mirka’s. And our careers. You don’t do that over one week of...”  
“Falling in love.” Andy suggested quietly.  
“Yes.” Roger’s voice was so soft, it was barely audible.  
“And if you were single?”  
Roger looked at him, his expression soft. “In a heartbeat. But I’m not.”  
Andy closed his eyes, and the sting of it was actually painful, and he squeezed them against it. “Okay.” He said. “Okay.” He got up, blindly, a bit wobbly. “I guess that’s that, then. I’m going to watch some TV in the other room.” He pulled clothes back on. “If you want to order some food in, now’s a good time for it. Holler when you want sex again.”  
Roger watched him go, then buried his face in his hands.


	5. Chapter 5

Mindless staring at the TV eventually led to a restless sleep, Roger never came out of the bedroom and with every moment he was gone, Andy grew more and more agitated.  
At the end though, sleep overtook him nonetheless as he curled on the sofa, knees pressed to his chest, gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach.  
When he woke up, the first thing he noticed was the Pizza box on the table in front of him, only one slice was missing, and Andy frowned, because Roger had to be hungry for more than one measly slice.  
However, what woke him up wasn’t the smell of chilling Pizza, but the heaviness against his thigh. Roger was huddled, wrapped in a blanket, on the sofa with him. The room was dark, lit only by the flickering light of the TV. Roger eyes were closed. He was doing the best to take up as little space as possible on a sofa large enough to sit four people, but he maintained bodily contact with him. And he was trembling.

Andy blinked, and blearily put a hand on Roger’s head, then as understanding dawned, he rose slightly and put his arms around Roger, pulling the man into his arms.  
“What the fuck are you doing?”  
Roger’s eyes opened wide. “Oh God.” He let out a small voice, shivering into the touch. “I’m sorry - look, I know i have no right to ask, I just need - the touch, okay? I tried not to wake you, but I can’t be by myself for so-”

“Would you shut up.” Andy pulled his own blanket over the two of them, and shoved two hands, warmed from sleep, under Roger’s sweatshirt with no preamble, wrapping them against him.  
Roger leaned into the touch and let out a whimper. “Oh. Ohhh. So good.”  
“I told you to wake me.” Andy said gruffly, when Roger’s shivering subsided slightly. “I fucking meant it.”  
“I didn't want to wake you up.” Roger said hotly, his voice trembling with tension. “Do you think I have no pride at all?!”

“Right.” Andy laughed bitterly. “Because I can sleep with you smelling like sex in a jar, shivering against my leg.”

Roger recoiled from his tone of voice. “You’re - you’re pissed at me to the point of hate, almost.””   
“Am not.” Andy said.  
At Roger’s continued silence, Andy frowned. “Roger. I am not. I mean, yeah - I’m a little pissed off, but hate?”  
He tucked his head in the crook of Roger’s neck, and tightened his arms around him. “You know that I’m not. I can’t.”  
“I’ve hurt you.”  
There was no denying that, and Andy took a moment with that. “Yes. I think we’re both gonna end up bruised and battered at the end of that one. That doesn’t mean I hate you. You’re frustrating me.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        You’re being a martyr, denying yourself, frustrating the both of us. If you want something, just come out and say so.”  
At the sudden rumble from Roger’s stomach, he glanced at him, and slide his hand a little lower.“Woah. Your stomach doesn’t sound too happy.”  
Roger groaned. “I shouldn’t have touched that Pizza. It’s the only place that made deliveries that late. I told you, my digestive system isn’t working during heats.”  
Andy tsked. “The hotel would wake up the chef to make you some chicken soup if you only asked.” He felt guilty, because obviously, he was the alpha here, and Roger wasn’t eating shit, and while it wasn’t his fault, it was his responsibility. “You feel sick?”  
“I already threw my guts out.” Roger mumbled. “So don’t worry, I won’t throw up at you.”  
Andy gritted his teeth. “That’s not why I was asking, you utter douche, but good to know anyway.”

Roger mouth quirked in a smile.   
“Why the fuck are you’re smiling?”  
“Because that was such a normal Andy Roddick answer.” He glanced at Andy. “I missed that.I don’t think I’ve heard you tell a joke or make a sarcastic remark in days.”  
Andy didn’t smile.”Nothing about this is normal.” He frowned at Roger, serious now. “Other than this yucky 2 dollar Pizza you rightfully puked, did you eat anything yesterday?” Then his eyes opened. “Fuck. I was supposed to come back with the ice-cream yesterday. Did you eat anything afterwards?”  
“No.” Roger said softly. “I - no. That’s okay though, I don't’ feel hungry.”

“You don’t feel hungry? You didn’t eat anything for nearly 24 hours! This is why you are like that, all weak and shaky.”

Roger grimaced. “I’m weak and shaky because I’m in heat, and my alpha was camping out on the couch for the past two and a half hours. That’s fucking me up. It would fuck any Omega in heat up. It’s not suppose to be like that during heats.Touch me, and I won’t be so shaky.”  
Startled, Andy wrapped his arms back around Roger, who seemed to relax the moment  Andy touched him. Andy frowned. “You can’t live off fucking and touching, not even in heat, especially not in heat. You need food.  why don’t I just go and look if there’s …”

Roger shook his head adamantly. “No! I don’t need anything. Look, you told me to tell you what I want. Well, I can’t fucking deal with the sensory deprivation again. Please. It’s like my skin is crawling. There’s no food here anyway, and I’m not eating that yucky Pizza ”  
Andy’s voice softened. “Rog. I’ll bet my fucking life there’s some fruit in the refrigerator, probably a whole basket of ‘em. We always get fruit.  I’m not going anywhere, just give me a second.”  
Roger, reluctantly, moved aside to let Andy up. Andy  moved to the kitchen. He located the fruit basket deep inside the refrigerator and dug it out.

He put the basket in front of Roger and patted his thigh. “Eat.”

He watched Roger watching the hand on his thigh, and his fingers tightened. “I’ll do whatever you want later, but please eat something.”  
Roger looked at him, his eyes hooded, then he sighed, and reached out to peel a banana, Andy watched Roger eating the fruit carefully, one bite at a time, and was suddenly struck with a mental image of Roger’s lips against his cock, which was something they haven’t done, because - well, heat. He looked away sharply, because his arousal was fierce.

Roger caught that, and his eyes darkened, like he was reading Andy’s mind,  “I should switch a fruit, maybe.” He said softly, reaching out for a strawberry. He nibbled on the end, delicately, and Andy was almost panting. “Stop that.” He groaned out. “You fucking tease. Just eat the damn thing”   
Roger’s eyes glowed dangerously, and he took the half-eaten strawberry, and smeared it on Andy’s face, shoving it into his mouth.  “You eat it.” He snarled. “Can you fucking touch me already?!”  
Andy, stunned, stared at Roger, then caught his arm in an iron grip and pulled him into his lap roughly. “You want me to touch you?” He said, moving to kiss him roughly, biting on his lip, tasting copper and strawberries. “Like that?” He shoved his hand between his legs, low between his legs, underneath his boxer shorts, ran a hand down his hard dick, palmed his balls roughly and down-down-down, to where he was wet hot and ready for him, and pushed inside with no hesitation with two fingers - and stopped immediately at Roger’s clench and hiss.

Roger needed no preparation so far, because Omegas produced lube on their own during heats, but while Roger was wet, he wasn’t nearly as wet as he was the last time they did it.   
Andy froze, but Roger ground himself on Andy’s hand. “God. Yes.” The expression on his face wasn’t exactly relaxed, though.  
“Rog.” Andy groaned. “You’re. We - we need lube.”  
“I don’t have any. Please please come on already.”  
“Don’t be a moron.”  
He gently removed his hand, then perceeded to tear the clothes off Roger, and got on top of him. With Roger’s eyes on him, he licked his fingers so they were slick and moist, and reached down between Roger’s legs again, this time slower and gentler. Roger arched to meet him.

He fucked Roger with his hand, while rubbing himself on Roger’s thigh, trying not to come. Roger was groaning loudly, uncontrollably, as Andy made a direct assault on his prostate with three fingers. “No. I - Fuck. Too much. God don’t stop. Ohhh.” His breath came out in staccato gasps.  
“Can I fuck you?” Andy whispered, grinding against him, pushing against him, because his cock was screaming for some fucking attention, and if this was going to be the last time they do it, he wanted to be in Roger.  
“Yeah. Hu-hurry.”  
He pulled Roger toward him, put his legs on his shoulders, and pushed in with a muffled cry, stroking him at the same time.  
He settled on a solid rhythm, matching the long and steady strokes of his hands with his thrusts, and he didn’t know what he loved more, the feeling of Roger, hard and hot in his hand, the way he whimpered with every squeeze and stroke, or the way his head arched back whenever Andy clipped his prostate. A coil of pure lust so sharp it was almost pain was shimmering below his stomach. “God. Yeah.” He choked out. “You feel so good. So fucking good - Oh Jesus fu-” He felt himself building toward it, and increased his rhythm, pounding Roger so hard he could feel his balls slapping against his ass.   
“Andy. Fuck. Can - can you please-” Andy stopped as Roger flushed. “What. Tell me.” _I’ll do anything._  
“Can I be on top?”  
He almost came right there and then, because fucking God.  
He lowered Roger’s legs to the sofa, one after the other, then pulled Roger to his lap, still in him. Roger’s wrapped both arms around him, and their faces were inches apart. He just stared at him, breathless, making the smallest of movement with his hips.

“Like this?” Andy’s voice was no more than a husk. He nuzzled him, inhaling deeply. “This is what you wanted?”   
Roger nodded shakily, his irises black. “I - I just want. Make it last, if you’re pounding me like that.... I- “ He leaned his forehand against Andy. “It’s the last time.” He whispered. “I can feel it, it’s the last heat wave - I - ” His hand grasped Andy’s hair. “It should last - more than a few minutes. I don’t want it to be - ” He let his voice falter.  
It shook Andy to the very core. “Is that for you, or for me?”  
“Does it matter?  
Andy closed his eyes. “Yes. And No. Fine. Make it last, then.”

Roger braced himself on his shoulders, and started rocking, up and down, then in circular corkscrew movements, driving Andy in deeper, inhaling and exhaling loudly whenever Andy’s slowly expanding knot hit his prostate. Andy’s eyes closed, and he let himself feel. Roger’s smell around him, the taste of his lips, nibbling on his own. His fingers splayed on Roger’s hips, and helped him set both a proper rhythm and a good depth, not to fast, not too shallow, just right. They did it for a while, this steady fucking. Andy didn’t dare to open his eyes, to see whether Roger was watching him or not. Whether he was running away from the truth of who was fucking him.

Slowly, slowly, they picked up pace. Together. Then Andy reached to stroke Roger again, sweeping a thumb over the head, hard. And Roger threw his head back, exposing his neck fully to Andy as he ground harder against him. “Fuck.” Andy groaned. ‘Oh Fuck what are you doing to me.” He buried his face in the Swiss neck and suckled HARD, pulling skin and muscle into his mouth. Roger spasmed, full body twitch, and Andy could feel him contracting around him. God, but he wanted to go harder, to fuck him hard, to leave a mark and a scent on him that would not be driven off easily, to come all over him, in him, to claim him.

At Roger’s startled gasp, he realized he said some of those things out loud, and was about to choke out an apology, before he realized Roger was coming from the broken sob the man uttered and the pulsing pressure around his knot. That what Andy had said made him come undone. Knowing this set off Andy’s own orgasm, He grabbed Roger’s hips and slammed into him hard, and he was coming in spurts inside him, filling him up as his knot expanded even further, and yeahfuckingloveyougodgodgod.

That was mostly out loud, too.

Roger was panting, slumped against him, head lowered onto his shoulder, his eyes closed shut, making small breathy voices. Fuck, he was covered in Roger’s come, and he still found the fact it turned him on slightly disturbing. Because until this week, he wasn’t that guy turned on by things like that.  
Slowly, Roger lifted his head toward him, and for a moment Andy did not understand, until Roger’s lip, warm and slightly chapped, found his own and he allowed himself be kissed, and Roger’s hand was tight in his hair, to the point of pain.

This was the only ‘ditto’ he could have hoped for, curled in a post coital kiss, and he wasn’t going to say no to that, as meager as it was.  
He deepened the kiss,and hugged the lithe body tighter.  
He ran his hands over Roger’s body, studying him in a way he hasn’t earlier. The light coating of hair on his thighs, the arch of his spine, the soft, tanned skin of his shoulders.  
Roger sighed and shivered, and clenched around his knot.  
”Sensitive?” Andy husked.

“You know I am.” Roger’s voice had a slight stutter to it. He held onto Andy tightly, then leaned his forehead against his. “I just - Andy.” He sighed breathily, almost purring at the delicacy of Andy's touch.  
They held each other for a while, then kissed.There was a flow of warmth between them, the flow of the bond. Roger swallowed convulsively as Andy moved his lips against his neck, tasting him. When he licked over the bite, Roger shook and let out a soft groan. “Don’t -” He caught Andy’s eyes and held. “A fresh bond bite is the most - it will just turn me on again, alright.”  
Andy panted into Roger’s neck, because it was instinctive, to kiss the bite mark, to suck it, to bite again. When he got himself together, somehow, he lifted his head.  
Roger’s eyes were shattered. He rested his head on Andy’s shoulder and his grip on him tightened. “Lie down with me?” he mumbled in a choked voice. “Last time. Then I go, okay? You let me go.”  
Andy nodded mutely, and pulled Roger down with him. Roger’s head was tucked in the crook of his neck, and it took Andy a moment to realize he was in tears.  
“Would you stop that.” Andy hissed. “Fuck, Roger. You’re making it a million times harder.”  
“I don’t know how to do this.” Roger whispered. “I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know how to make this right.”

Andy stared at the ceiling. “You can’t make it right. I’ve said all I’m going to on this matter. I won’t degrade myself further. You know what I want.’  
“This isn’t an option." Roger's voice was defeated. "You know it isn’t. I’m mar- ”

“I fucking don’t need to hear it again! I know. It’s not like I’m someone you met yesterday, for Christ sake. Roger, I know you, I know Mirka. I know she’s your wife, I know you love her. do whatever the fuck you want. Just don’t ask me to make you feel better about it.” His face curdled, his hands left Roger’s back and curled to fists by his side. “Why did you have to do this now.”  
Roger lifted his head with a frown. “Because this is hard on me, too. Whether you believe me or not, and this won’t get easier from here.”  
Andy looked at him, his eyes hard. “I’m sure your wife is just waiting for you to return, to make you forget all about me.” And woah, because woah, the petulance and jealousy were coming of him in unattractive ways of a wounded alpha.  
Roger’s tilted his head toward him and said nothing for a long moment, then pressed a hand against Andy’s cheek, and while Andy wanted to flinch from the touch, he found himself sinking into it. “If it’s any comfort to you.” Roger said softly. “Nothing about it is going to be easy. Not getting over my feelings for you, nor with my relationship with Mir. It’s going to be really hard.” He gave Andy a sharp look. "Is that going to be easier for you, knowing this?"  
Andy shook his head, then pulled Roger back to lie against his chest. There was nothing to say. They waited together for his knot to receed, and when he finally softened, his body, at least, releasing his claim over Roger, they remained frozen there for a long moment. Andy sniffed him then, to make sure his heat was truly over. It was.

And he felt nothing different. Nothing at all. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He clutched Roger to him hard. “You’re not going.” He said, insanely, because no, that's not what he meant to say. And God, this did not feel rational.  
Roger froze, then raised his head to Andy. “I have to go.” He whispered. “You promised me to let me go.”  
"Why aren't you going then? Go. Get up, leave!"  
They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing hard. Roger wasn’t moving though, he wasn’t moving away from Andy. His eyes were large and frightened.  
Andy nodded sadly then, then flipped them, so he was on top. “You’re not going.” He repeated.”So, I am . You want to go, that's what you said, and I can’t watch you walk away from me." He closed his eyes, kissed Roger’s forehead for the longest of times, and then he was up. He pulled his clothes on with his back toward Roger, and located his room keys somewhere on the floor. Roger didn’t make a sound, but Andy knew he was watching his every move.

He paused at the door and bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. “Goodbye, Roger.” He said, his voice as normal as he could get it. “See you around.” Then he was out the door. He never turned to look back at him.  
He looked himself in the mirror as he descended. Forcing his face into an impassive mask. His heart felt like it was an elastic rubber band, stretched beyond its power, never snapping into place.  
Roger watched him walk away with wide eyes, his hands curled into tight fists. Because this was literally painful. When the door shut behind Andy, Roger flipped over so he was face down, and let out a choked scream into the mattress.

 

\------

 

There was nothing but relief on the face of Pierre Paganini when he opened the door of his hotel room.  
“Roger.” He said, before pulling the younger Omega to his arms. “Thank God.”  
Roger melted into the older’s man embrace. After a moment, Pierre pulled back, and gave the pale man an inquiring look. “How hurt are you?”  
Roger shrugged tiredly. “It’s nothing. I’m just cold and queasy and exhausted, is all.”  
When he walked into the room, he froze. Because they were all there, Tommy and Sara, Seve and Stephan. Coffee and food were on the table, barely touched.

Tommy’s jaw was clenched, like he was interrupted mis-argument. No Mirka, though. He swallowed. “That looks like a war council meeting.” He tried on a smile. It didn’t quite work.“One without the chief strategist. Where’s Mir?”  
At the silence that greeted him, he pushed forward. “Where is she?”  
“She flew home, Roger.” Sara said softly. “Yesterday.”  
Roger reeled back, physically reeled back. “What?”  
“It was driving her crazy. The wait. She asked me to drive her to the airport and make sure she got on a plane home.” Sara was absently playing with the napkin, tearing it to small pieces. “I - I think she wanted to give you both a chance to get perspective before seeing each other again. She - she wasn't in a particulary good place, Roger.”

“Perspective.” Roger repeated, in shock. He was struck by acute feeling of abandonment that breathing almost became painful. He looked at the room accusingly. “And you let her go like that?”  
“I told her it was a stupid idea.” Tommy said, the only other alpha in the room. “She’s - fuck she’s a stubborn woman.” He rubbed at his face. “I can’t say I blame her too much though Roger, it’s an unbearable position for a bonded alpha to be in.  
“Yeah. It was a barrel of laughs for me!” Roger spat, anger and hurt boiling in him in equal measures.    
He turned to Pierre. “How could you let her LEAVE like that?”  
Pierre bit his lip, his face were pale. “I warned her that this was a bad idea, but - Roger, I think she was truly afraid of meeting you. Of saying the wrong thing, of doing the wrong thing.”

“Right.” Roger said, closing his eyes. “So she did that, instead. Because this was a good idea. Running away.”

Pierre’s hand was on his shoulder. “She did a lot more than most could when she walked away from you yesterday, when she realized she couldn’t help. Don’t judge her.”  
Roger looked at him, his face grey. “Right.” He said. “I shouldn’t judge. After all, I’m the one who did this to us.” He shook his head in pain, because no, what he needed was not to spend another day with Andy’s scent still on him. In him. This was kryptonite. Shitshitshit.

 

He looked around the room. “I get it that you’re all worried about me and everything, and I appreciate it, I really do, but what I most want is to be alone right now. I can’t - I can’t stay in my room, it reeks of - ” He looked at Pierre. “Mind if we switch them?” He rubbed his face distractedly. “Maybe I’ll just ask for another room.”  
Seve glanced at Pierre, then at Tommy. “It’s just. Roger.” He let out a short laugh. “You can stay wherever, come on. -  But there are a few things that we need to discuss, the media…the news spread like fire.”

Roger’s eyes opened at that. “What do they know?”  
Pierre sighed. “Everything.” He said quietly. “You being Omega. Andy. Djokovic blurted something - unfortunate, to several players when he was still under the effects of Omega heat pheromones. Then after the incident in the locker-room - ”  
Roger’s frown deepened. “What incident?!”  
Pierre blinked. “Andy  - or Mirka -  never said anything?”  
Roger slammed a hand on the wall so hard everyone jumped. “What does it take to make it plainer that Mirka and I didn’t talk, alright, we didn’t! I was never lucid enough for that for the entire time she was there, We just -“He balled his hand into a fist. “Look, just tell me what you’re talking about. I know Mirka and Andy had a conversation, that’s how she got past him, right? Are you talking about that?”  
Pierre sighed. “Well. Yes, but there was also the matter of Andy putting a fist in Novak’s stomach.”  
Roger’s eyes widened, as he stared at Pierre.

“I was there.” Tommy said, frowning. “Novak said enough for people to realize Andy’s role in this, and if anyone had any doubts, they had none after Andy used his fists. Anyway, Novak is a little shit, and everyone thought he had it coming. It’s not like the first time an alpha fistfight broke out in the locker-room, for christ sake. Then Andy decided to address the locker-room on your behalf, which was - “ he sighed. “Well, I understand why he did it, only then Mirka showed up, and she wasn’t the model of rationality either. Between the three of them, enough was said, enough for the press to find out and run with it”   
He took in Roger’s horrified expression. “Sorry, Rog. I wouldn’t have said anything - but you’re going to find out sooner or later. I thought you should know. “ He finished lamely, but at Roger’s white face, he added hurriedly. “Look. The Andy thing - It’s not like helping out a stranded Omega, even a bonded one, is unheard of. You’re not the first guy in the world who forgot his pills. The fact you’re an Omega is causing more of a WOW factor. You’re breaking records left and right, man.” He tried to joke, it fell flat.

Roger swayed, feeling physically ill, as suddenly the last 5 days hit him like a brick, as the last remains of the self-healing, designed to allow for more and more heat waves, left his system. Pierre grabbed his one arm and lowered him to the nearest chair. “Bring him something to eat.” he told Seve. Seve got up, but Roger shook his head. “No way, I just need to rest.”  
“You’ve been in heat for 5 days. You didn’t regulate your diet before, you barely ate during, you look dehydrated and malnourished. You need to eat. Now.”  
Roger shook the hand off his shoulder, roughly, and buried his face in his hands. The room was spinning. Pierre gritted his teeth. “Guys, why don’t you leave us alone for a while.”  
One by one, they all departed. Tommy was the last to leave when Roger lifted his head.   “Tommy. Do me a favor. Check up on Andy.”  
Tommy’s eyes narrowed as he moved to stand in front of Roger. “You need to stop doing this, Rog. Right fucking now. I like the man just fine but he’s a big boy and an alpha beside. He’ll cope, if nothing but because he has to. You need to start leaving this behind you and focus on your marriage or there will be no describing the epic shit you’ll all be in.”  
“Well, that would be easier if my wife was actually here.” Roger said acidly. “And no, he won’t cope. And I have - I’m responsible for what happened to him, don’t you see.”  
Tommy huffed. “This is why you’re doing this. A sense of responsibility. Stop lying to yourself, Roger.” He crouched down and gave him a long sniff while Roger pushed him away, angrily. “You *reek* of a fresh bond. This is why I didn’t go overboard convincing Mir to stay, I could smell this on you when I saw you. She could probably smell it on you when she was there, and it got even stronger since. She would have profoundly lost it and that would - that would not have been good.”  
Roger swallowed as he raised his eyes toward Tommy. “You tell me.” Roger said, his voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. “What am I suppose to do about it, with Mir gone? Bonds don’t fade on their own. You know they don’t.” He wiped at his face. “I need to be proactive about it and I can’t fix this without her. I CAN’T.”  
Tommy sighed, and squeezed Roger’s shoulder. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s right. I’d say fly out to meet her in Switzerland, but with Roland Garros being the week after next.,,”  
Roger blinked, and looked at Pierre. “I didn’t even - do you think - is there any chance I’ll be ready for that?”  
Pierre bit his lip. “I do not know without seeing you do some basic fitness, so it’s hard to say right now. But seeing how you are physically and emotionally, I will advise against it. You’re not suppose to do anything especially strenuous for at least a week after a normal heat, one you prepared for. This was anything but normal, and the Roland is especially demanding physically.”  
Roger buried his face in his hand, rocking on the couch. “Shit. Shit. SHIT”. His breathing came out in laboured pants. He moved the wrong way and winced, feeling every bit of how soundly he was fucked in the last few days.

“Rog?”  
“I’m fine.” He said, in a voice clearly indicating that he wasn’t.   
Tommy frowned.“Roger, you’re not suppose to be in this bad of a shape. If the fucker was too rough you should get checked out, it’s not like I haven’t seen the guy naked, he’s fucking hung.”  
Roger glared up at him. “He wasn’t too rough, not more than any heat calls for. It’s just that I’m not - “ He sighed .”Used to it.”

He rubbed at his face. “And I don’t think that’s why I’m feeling so off.” He added miserably.   
At Tommy’s blank expression, Pierre sighed.“Tommy. What do you and Sara normally do the first couple of days after Sara’s heat?”  
Tommy shrugged. “Nothing. We don’t do much. Rest. Curl up in bed and watch movies, what with the increased need of body contact and all,  I- “ And then it dawned to him, and he looked at Roger with something akin to pity. Roger glared. “Fuck you. Tommy. Don’t look at me with that expression. Don’t you fucking dare.”  
“Okay.” Tommy wiped at his face. “Okay. Sorry. I’m being an insensitive fuck. I’m just - “ He flopped down on the sofa next to him “-Concerned for you. You look like hell, Rog, and you’re shaking.”

He looked at Roger for a long moment, then pulled him to a full, strong, hug.

Roger froze and completely clenched. Pierre frowned at Tommy, who gave him a dismissing look over Roger’s shoulder, rolling his eyes. “Roger. Let go.” He said to his friend, a hint of a smile on his lips, not releasing his hold one bit.  
“No. Tommy - look, I - “ Roger stuttered.

“Jesus fuck.” Tommy’s voice was soothing and slightly amused. He rubbed Roger’s back in strong, sound motion.  
“I won’t go all alpha on you. When you’re not in heat I’m as straight as the next guy. This is comfort, nothing else. This isn’t exactly the first time I’ve hugged you and you need physical contact. Get your mind off the gutter and fucking *relax*.” He shook Roger’s shoulder slightly, making a point.  
Roger remained frozen for a moment, then relaxed into Tommy’s arms. He buried his face in the fabric of Tommy’s jacket, and tried hard not to fall apart Because Tommy’s alpha scent felt incredibly comforting in its familiarity, but also totally wrong. And he was going to say something about that, he was going to say thankyou and move away a little bit, maintain some dignity. But his limbs felt heavy and uncooperative, and the room was spinny, whatever he wanted to say did not come out, and there were black dots in front of his eyes that kept expanding.

it took a moment for Tommy to figure out that the loosening of Roger’s muscles was less about him relaxing, and more about him passing out in his arms.“Fuck. Hey, Hey. Shit. Roger?!”  
Together, they got Roger horizontally on the couch and propped his legs up.  
Pierre went over to the kitchen, and returned with an energy shake and a straw. He gestured Tommy to move over, sat next to Roger, put an arm under his head and held the drink for him to drink. “Drink. It’s sweet and full with calories, and then you’re having another one.”  
Roger, eyes closed, cooperated without a word, then slung a hand over his eyes.

Pierre gave him a stern look. “You look like crap. If you can’t keep it down, we’re going to a hospital. I’m calling a doctor to look at you anyway.”

Tommy swore. “I want to wring Andy’s neck.”  
“It’s not his fault.” Roger replied weakly. “If I asked him to, he would have been here with me. I sent him away. He’s never been with anyone in heat before, he doesn’t know that the need for physical proximity stretches after the heat is done.” He groaned. “I never imagined Mir would just leave like that.”

Pierre glanced at Tommy. “Tommy, let me speak with Roger alone.”

Tommy looked at Pierre skeptically. “I don’t know how to point it out delicately, but if it’s a post-heat withdrawal…”  
Pierre shook his head and gave Tommy a pointed stare-down. “Short of his own Alpha, and I know we’re a bit murky on who exactly that is right now, any physical presence would serve. It doesn’t have to be an alpha, and I think it is preferable that it won’t be. So do me a favor, take a walk.”  
Tommy took a step back, startled, then nodded.  
Roger straightened a little. “Wait. First you promise me to speak to Andy.”  
Tommy groaned. “Fine. On one condition. You don’t ask me shit about it. I go make sure he’s alright, but I don’t report to you, because it’s none of your business and you need to focus on yourself, so don’t bother asking me.”  
Roger froze, then nodded. “Okay. Just - “ He leaned back miserably. “Do whatever you think is best.”  
Tommy squeezed his shoulder, sending Pierre a look as he did, then left.

Pierre got up, and came back with another energy drink, and held it to Roger’s lips as well, while putting a hand on his forehand. Roger drank silently, then cocked his eyebrow at Pierre. “Explain why didn’t you want Tommy to stay?”  
Pierre frowned at him, then sighed. “Forgive me. This was your call, but I didn’t think he should over-do it with the touching. I think your instincts were right the first time.The last thing you need is to get your wires more confused than they already are. You’re vulnerable and needy and it’s bad idea. I would have told him that, but he caught me off guard when he hugged you, but whether he realizes it or not, he *was* ‘going alpha’ on you, and had been since you started your heat. It’s a basic alpha instinct to comfort an Omega in need he cares about, you don’t want those lines to become blurred, and neither does Tommy.”  
Roger grimaced. “We’ve been friends forever, and I’ve never been more starkly aware of the the fact I’m an Omega and he’s an alpha. It’s a weird vibe.” He blinked his lip. “And that hug felt weird. Comforting, but - also very wrong. It’s hard to explain.”

“The weirdness would go away, it’s just too soon after your heat, you have no alpha around, Tommy is the next best thing. I don’t - you’re emotionally starved right now, I don’t want you to become dependent on him.”  
Roger nodded mutely, he agreed with that.  
Pierre studied him carefully.“You say Andy wasn’t too rough, but Tommy, when he saw you, earlier, was under the impression you were significantly compromised.” He bit his lip. “Now, when I saw you earlier - you seemed fine, and I don’t mean to embarrass you, but tell me you’re not bleeding, because if you are, we must go to a hospital at once.”  
Roger flushed. “No, he - I mostly healed already. It wasn’t Andy’s fault I - freaked out a bit when he knotted me at the beginning. We - he - we were more careful afterwards. It’s just embarrassing, really.”

Pierre exhaled. “I’m relieved he wasn’t overly aggressive.” Gently, he pulled the zipper of Roger’s hoody down, so his neck was visible. “Except here. Broken skin and all.” He thumbed at the bite, and Roger flinched and jumped. “Several times?”  
“Not good, right?”.He didn’t look up to meet Pierre’s eyes.  
“No, it’s not great. It makes a bond stronger.” Pierre agreed. “But it is what it is.”  
He got up to bring blankets, wrapped them around Roger, and then put his hand back against Roger’s forehead.  
“I’m not an alpha. And definitely not yours. But ’m not going anywhere. Sleep, I’ll be here when you get up. The flight home isn’t scheduled for two more days. You need to get your strength back.”  
Roger let out a shuddering breath. “Thank you.” He curled inside the blankets, and buried his face in the cushions. Fighting the urge to weep. The feeling of loneliness was battering at him. He sucked air through his teeth wetly. Next to him, Pierre sighed as he caressed his hair. “I owe you an apology.”  
Roger lifted his head. “What, for what?”  
“It was brought to my attention that as an older Omega, who was close to you for all of your adult life, I neglected to tell you several things you have possibly led you to make other choices. You were an Omega child of Beta parents who settled down with a woman very early in life and then traveled with her constantly on tour. There were things that you just did not experience. Teaching you some of that was my responsibility. I’m terribly sorry for that. I miscalculated the risks.”  
Roger lowered his head back to the sofa.”It’s my fault. For not consulting you. I - I realized what happened too late.I was already in heat by the time it dawned to me that what I was feeling wasn’t the flu. I just left the decision to Mirka, Andy was her suggestion I -  I like him, I knew he wouldn’t - take advantage. We were - thinking about someone who wouldn’t lose control,  who wouldn’t tell on me, who isn’t that aggressive. I thought it was good choice when Mirka suggested it, after all, I liked Andy just fine. The thought of a woman never even crossed my mind, it felt too much like cheating.” He groaned. “I didn’t think that could happen - shit. Oh. SHIT.” He gulped harshly. “I screwed up so badly. She will never forgive me, and, and - Andy, he’s - ”  
“I know Andy’s feelings.” Pierre said softly. “We’ve had a long talk. You could have not known about his pre-existing feelings beforehand, or that he’ll be so susceptible to your heat.”  
Roger buried his face in the couch and groaned. “It’s my fault.I was teasing him, testing him, pulling him closer then pushed him away. All the time I did that. I clung and I pushed and I acted like a raving maniac. It’s not like I was reluctant - I - I wanted him to bite me, to fuck me.” His voice broke. “God help me. I never wanted anything so much.”  
Pierre sighed. “I suspected this much.”  
“I-” Roger closed his eyes. “I love Mir with all of my heart but there’s a big part of it that’s now - ”  
“Belongs to him.”  
“Yes.” Roger said, his voice broken. “Watching him walk away was - “ He took a deep breath. “Not sure I have words to describe how that felt like, and with every-passing-moment it feels worse.”  
Pierre’s face were grey. “Did you talk about this?”  
“Yes. It didn’t go well. What with talking about how I was going to go back to my wife between asking him to fuck me. That’s usually very constructive.”

“What about after, when your heat was done?”  
Roger shook his head. “He just - he left. He left so he wouldn’t see me leace.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m not sure I could have walked away myself.”

“Okay.” Pierre sighed. “Okay. We will figure it out.” He caressed Roger’s hair. “I want you to rest now. I’m not going to your room, I’m staying here until we leave. Do you want to go to bed or stay here?”  
“Here.”  
Pierre sat there for a long moment, watching the fluttering of Roger’s eyelids. When he was pretty sure Roger was asleep, Roger reached out to grasp his hand. “Hey. Who won?”  
“What?”  
“The tournament. Who won?”  
“Rafa did.”  
“Oh. Good.” Roger said, and curled further in the blanket. “At least that part of the world is normal.”  
Pierre smiled a little, and watched as Roger fell asleep.

 

\-----

 

Tommy knocked on Andy’s door shortly afterwards. To his surprise, Mardy Fish opened the door, and after staring at him, shut it in his face.   
A bit stunned, Tommy knocked again, harder, and Mardy opened it again, his expression furious. “What are you doing here, Haas?”  
Tommy quirked a brow. “I wanted to make sure Roddick wasn’t offing himself. Now that you’re here, I guess I can go.”  
“Like you fucking care about him.” Mardy growled.

Tommy’s face curdled. “Look. I’m here because Roger asked me to. I’m not his fucking keeper.”  
“No fucking kidding.” Mardy growled in hushed tones. “You’re Federer’s friend. You took advantage of Andy to help Roger, and didn’t give a fucking crap what that would do to him. I like Roger just fine, but that was uncalled for.”  
Tommy made a disgusted face. “Who ever believed Roddick had never fucked an Omega, and would get so quickly attached? Tell me who could have predicted it?!” He walked himself in. “No one consulted me before making that choice. I would have told Roger it was a fucking bad idea. Mirka and Roger made that mistake and they’re paying for it big time. It was no one’s fault. If anything, you’d think Roddick would let on to Mirka that maybe he’s not the right person to approach regarding emergency heat fucking, because of the big fucking crush he had on her husband!”  
Mardy’s face were grave and serious. “Lay off him. He’s been dancing by your tune for 5 days and let me tell you something -  He’s not doing well. An Alpha after a first bonding to be so far from the Omega? That kind of thing can do weird stuff to you. You get over it quickly enough if you’re 16, what with the limited attention span. It’s not suppose to happen so late in life. Roger has Mirka to get him through this, Andy got no one.”  
Tommy bit his tongue, no way was he telling Mardy or Andy Mirka left for Switzerland. That would be disastrous. “Look. I came here to give Roger some peace of mind, and to make sure Andy stays away from Roger now that his heat is over. Give him a chance to get over this thing.”  
Mardy stepped toward him, enough to get in his face. “You don’t come near him again. And tell the rest of your team to do the same. Andy sacrificed enough. Maybe too much. I mean it, stay away from him.”  
Tommy smirked, as comprehension dawned. “You know. I knew for a long time Andy was once involved with an alpha. That was you, right?”  
“What of it?” Mardy spat.   
Tommy shrugged. “Give him a piece of ass, maybe that would help him get over Roge - “ A moment later, there was a fist against his windpipe. “Say that to me again!?”  
Tommy shook him off. “Calm the fuck down, it was just a suggestion.” His expression softened. “Look. I apologize. That was uncalled for.” He rubbed his face.”This was a challenging week.”  
Mardy backed off. “Why didn’t you offer yourself, then? To Roger. I mean, if you’re such a great buddy.”  
Tommy sighed. “Um.  Married? Not gay? Take your pick.”

Mardy snorted. “Like straightness matters to an alpha when presented with An Omega during a heat. ”  
“Still. Would be awkward as hell. Sara would never stand for it. Plus, we’re all such close friends, there’s a million reasons why not.” He sighed. “I - I don’t want to think too closely about what ifs.”

He looked around. “Where’s Andy then?”  
“Drunk and asleep.” Mardy sighed. “He called me about an hour ago.” His face twisted. “He’s a mess. How’s Roger?” He studied Tommy. “From what I understood from Andy, this thing isn’t exactly one sided, and if Alpha fresh from a bond have separation issues, so will the Omega..”

Haas huffed. “If he’s getting ideas, tell him to forget it. Roger and Mirka and rock solid. Roger will be fine.”

Mardy shrugged. “As much as any woman-alpha/Omega mates can be. That’s always a recipe for disaster, it does explain a lot about them..” He shook his head. “How long have you known he’s an Omega? Roger, I mean. Because fucking Christ. That’s just embarrassing for all of us.”

Tommy smiled ruefully. “Since before his first slam. And yeah, I was pissed off, but then I got over it. He’s just Roger. It’s not like anything he’s ever accomplished was normal when you thought he was a Beta or whatever.”  
Mardy shrugged. “I thought he was an alpha.”  
Haas quirked an amused brow. “Roger? An Alpha? On court, yeah. By his sheer domination, in a quiet sort of way. Off court, he’s so clearly isn’t an alpha, I wonder how people miss that.”  
“You see a guy with so many slams, you don’t think ‘Omega’. You think he’s an alpha or a remarkable Beta. Like Rafa.” Mardy grimaced. “Look. Tell Roger Andy’s fine. He’s not, but Roger doesn’t have to know this.”  
“No, he doesn’t.” Tommy agreed. “So you’re with me on this?” He eyed the blond. “We let them both think the other one is doing well?”  
“Yeah.” Mardy said. “I honestly don’t think much hope of anything good coming out of this obsession he has with Roger. It’s only going to set him for further hurt.”  
Tommy gave a little nod, relieved the American agreed. “Fine. That’s settled then. See you around, Fish.”

He walked out the door, determined to get Roger through this, and to keep him away from Roddick.  
  
  
                                                                                  

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Andy**  
  
“Sleep well?”  
Andy jumped a feet in the air and blinked owlishly at Mardy, sitting on the couch in his hotel room. “Mardy.” He croaked. “What the fuck? What are you doing here?”  
Mardy gave him a glance that was more despairing than surprised, and got up. “You called me last night.” He handed him a cup of coffee, steaming and black. “Don’t you remember?

Andy rubbed his face and chugged down the glass. “No. What are you even doing here, you lost in the third round.”

Mardy smiled a little. “Nice to see you were keeping track in-between fucks. At first, I was just waiting for you to get out of Roger’s bedroom to tell me all the juicy details. It was your first heat, If I have it right. But afterwards I heard enough to actually worry about you. Want something for that hangover?”  
Andy stared at him, then shook his head. “No. Coffee’s fine, thanks. Better the headache than feeling other things.” He looked at Mardy helplessly. “His heat was over when I left, why do I still feel like crap when I’m not around him? It’s not normal.”

  
Mardy frowned at him. “I know you’ve never  been with any Omega, but come on, that’s just basic sex ad.” At Andy’s continued stare he groaned. “Oh fuck me. First of all, post heat, the craving for physical touch is very strong. Cuddling. Massages. You name it. Doesn’t have to be sex. Usually it’s not, because the Omega would have had enough. It’s usually an Omega problem, but as Roger was the first Omega you’ve slept with, and it was a heat, and I can only guess you bit the hell out of him, you get this incredibly annoying longing too. If there’s a bond, it’s going to affect you when it’s unfulfilled, and it’s harder, if it happens to you for the first time later in life.”

Andy stared at him. “For how long?”  
Mardy shrugged. “Feeling like this? A couple of days. Maybe a little more. That depends how badly you’ve managed to fuck yourself up when you bonded with the guy up till a couple of days ago, I’d say he had the most solid relationship on tour.”  
Andy studied the floor, and Mardy’s face twisted. “Fuck. They did a number on you.”  Andy looked up at that. “They?”  
“I don’t blame Roger. I mean, Omega in heat, he would have let Stepanek fuck him, for christ sake. But Mirka, the others in Roger’s camp. Why choose you? Why do that to you? It’s a stupid idea, when the guy is involved with a woman.“  
Andy groaned. “Seems like everyone realized that but me, Roger and Mirka. It was her idea, basically. She thought - “ His face curdled. “That I’m more likely not to hurt him. But I did. We hurt each other. Maybe not physically, but that’s worse.” He hugged himself. “Fuck. I feel cold and ill.”  
Mardy approached him. “Come ‘ere.” He rubbed Andy’s arms. “You know. Tommy Haas was here.”  
Andy’s eyes, which closed the moment Mardy touched him, re-opened. “What did he want?”  
“Supposedly, to check up on you. How come he knows about us?”  
“What. Us? You and me?”

“Hmm.”  
“Was that a secret?”  
“It wasn’t exactly common knowledge.”  
“I never told him, if that’s what you’re asking.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You mind?”  
Mardy shrugged. “It was a long time ago.” There was a catch in his voice though.

“It was.” He looked at the handsome blonde, who was still rubbing his arms. “Mardy. What -” He blinked his lips. “What are you doing?”  
Mardy hesitated. “Haas. He said something - Hey. You want to fuck?”

Andy stared at him. “What.”  
Mardy flushed, but plowed ahead. “Look. I’m kinda randy anyway, and it would make you feel better, probably.”  
Andy quirked a smile. “Geez. Your talents of seduction are overwhelming, Man. Don’t know how a guy can say no to this offer.’ He paused and squinted at him. “Mardy. Bad idea. It didn’t quite work before, for us.”

“That’s because you wouldn’t let me fuck you.”  
“I’m still not letting you fuck me.” He cocked an eyebrow. “And don’t tell me you’re putting out, because that would be a first, and I would wonder exactly how pitiful I look, that’s your offering this now, after all those years.”  
Mardy snorted. “Um. No. Lets not get carried away. We can do other things, though.” He took another step toward Andy, so they were pelvic against pelvic. “Like that.” He rocked forward and husked suggestively. “That was good before.”   
Andy swallowed, because yeah, he had sex more times than he could remember in the last few days, but his dick still jumped to commanding attention at the familiar hardness against him. “Mardy - come on, man.” His voice came out weak.  
“Cut your bitchin’. I can tell you’re hard.”   
“Well, you’re kinda hot. You’re always hot.” There was a moment of silence where neither of them moved. Mardy waited and eventually, Andy took a slight step back, ignoring the thrum in hi cock. “Thanks for the offer, and it’s not like - normally I would say yes. You know me. So don’t think - it’s not a rejection. I just - I can’t right now. Okay? It’s not you.”  
Mardy grimaced. “Jesus. You don’t owe him anything, Andy. His heat is over, he’s gone back to his wife, you need to think of something else. Something for our mutual satisfaction.” He grimaced. “It’s been weeks since I’ve gotten any.”  
“I’m in love with him.” Andy choked out.  
Mardy stepped back at that, his eyes wide. “No, oh come on you’re not. It’s an alpha-Omega thing, that’s all it is. There’s a bond, yeah. Doesn’t mean it’s love. And bonds can fade if you let them fade. If you don’t obsess on them.”  
“No. It’s not an Alpha-Omega thing.It’s not just that, anyway. I’m sick of people telling me that. It was - I wanted him before, too, Okay? I thought about it. Wondered what that would be like.”He laughed bitterly. “I just never let myself really - to feel that. Isn’t that ironic. Isn’t it fucking ironic, that at the end the guy I fall in love in would be Roger.”

He buried his face in his hands, and a moment later Mardy’s arms were around him. “Hey. man. Come on. Look. Okay. No sex. The sex offer is off the table. The new offer is just TLC. That’s okay?”

Andy nodded into Mardy’s shoulder. Mardy was his oldest and bestest friend. Their decision, sometime in their very early twenties, to give it a go, nearly killed that  friendship. They fought constantly, as only two young male alpha can fight and there was the little thing about how neither of them would roll over for the other. They thought it was something no self respecting alpha would do. It wore at them, and ended up breaking them up. It took them a while to recover from that.   
Of course, now Andy allowed Roger to fuck him, and found it a wholly tolerable and pleasant experience, but he had no desire to repeat the experience with anyone else. Still, Mardy was solid and broad and he smelled of pumpkin pie and home, and right now he was squeezing  Andy’s sore neck in a way that made him want to groan in pleasure. And, he was his friend, and he wasn’t embarrassed to lean on him, at least - not much. He closed his eyes and leaned into the familiar warmth, his head was pounding fiercely. Fucking hangover.  
“Are you going to the French?’ Mardy asked him after a little while, digging his fingers deep into Andy’s neck.  
“Dunno. I’m out of shape, I spent five days without as much as lifting a racquet. I’m fucking useless on clay anyway and I’m afraid if I see Roger I will jump his bones, even if he’s with his wife.”  
“I doubt he’s going. You should go. Get back to normal, you know..”

Andy snorted. “Roger won’t miss a slam unless his legs are broken..”  
Mardy gave a little shake of his head. “I don’t know. A week after a heat? That’s rough, man. What with Best of five and all. Even if he’s feeling better than you, and I doubt it, it would have been hard.” He dug his fingers deep into Andy’s neck, gave it a firm squeeze then removed the hand. He watched as Andy rose and rubbed his face. “You okay?”  
Andy nodded. He did feel somewhat better. “Thanks for that.”  
Mardy’s eyes were on him. “Don’t be an idiot. Look, I have a flight booked for two of us later tonight. For Paris. I think you should come with me. You won’t like it to watch it from home.”

Andy considered and grimaced. “I will lose the first round.”

“You don’t know that. Come on. Don’t be a whiny little bitch. You need to do something productive.” He turned serious. “You know, there is some backlash to deal with that’s bound to affect you too.”  
“What do you mean?”

“Roger’s Omega status. It’s pretty much common knowledge. Same about you helping him during a heat.”  
Andy’s eyes widened. “Djokovic. Fuck that little shit.”  
Mardy frowned. “To be completely honest with you, what has done the most damage was your pretty public fight with Mirka. No one can keep that amount of juiciness a secret, but the biggest issue isn’t that you two fucked, because it was a heat and supposedly you were doing him a favor. It is that he’s an Omega. Because holy fuck. I feel worse about that head to head I have with him now.”  
Andy frowned at him. “Why? He’s the same guy he always was. His achievements are remarkable no matter what. I think it’s crap anyway, Omegas are taught they can’t excel in sports, so they don’t. You hit puberty, and no matter how big of a talent you are, you tell your coach you went into heat they pull you out of a squad almost always. It gets akward in locker-rooms, with all those hormones around. It’s a lot tougher on them.”  
Mardy shrugged. “I guess. I honestly never gave it much thought.“ He paused for  moment. “I guess you have  point. Remember Jack? The kid who used to train with us until he was about 14 or so. He was good. Enough to make it a pro. He got his first heat and his parents pulled him out of tennis lessons faster than one of your serves.”

Andy grimaced. “Yeah. I remember him. He got his heat early, that’s the worse bit, his parents were scared for him, I guess. Hey - how are they reacting, out there? The guys?”

‘Eh. That depends. Some - I mean. There’s a lot of prejudice out there, Andy. It’s a good thing it’s him. It’s hard to disrespect Roger or claim he'd never amount to anything. But he’ll have a tough ol’ time with it. I mean -” He licked his lips. “Some people out there wonder whether it is even possible to do what he did without doping. Like low-level dosage of emergency suppressants.”   
Andy paled. “He’s not. If he could take emergency suppressants he wouldn’t have gone into heat when he missed his regular suppressants dosage.”

Mardy kept going. “That’s not all. There are Omega groups, too. That are angry with him. That he never came out as an Omega, making  a statement.”  
“Fuck.” Andy closed his eyes. “That’s not good. Not good at all.”  
Mardy grabbed his shoulder. “Tell me you’re coming to kick the dirt with me. By the way, you might want to call your family?  They called me when you didn’t pick up, and they watch the news too.”  
Andy groaned, then sighed. “Fine. Fine..”  
“Excellent.” Mardy grinned. “We’re going to go to Paris, lose the first round and do some stupid touristy shit. Like getting hammered, eat oysters and find some French ass to bang.”  
Andy snorted. “Jesus. Now I know I want to fly home.”  
Mardy nudged him. “Start packing, we leave in 5 hours.”

\------

**Roger**

It always felt somewhat odd, to be back in his Swiss apartment after months overseas. It felt worse now. He turned the key and opened the door. The apartment was lit. A delicious aroma of food was in the kitchen, and Mirka was standing there, her hair pulled up, stirring something in a pot. She turned as he walked in.  
Roger put his bags down, and looked at his wife, who stared at him from across the room. He swallowed, and took a tentative step forward.  
“It smells good. Whatever you have in there.” He said, because it’s the only thing that crossed his mind that would be safe to say. When she didn’t move, his heart clenched. “Mir.”  
There was really no describing of the acute and utter loneliness he was feeling.

It took two days until he felt well enough to travel, and spent most of his time in bed, sick like a dog.  
Seve and Pierre took turns keeping him company. Tommy flew to Paris.

Pierre forced him to eat, forced him to move around, and yesterday they jogged. Roger felt so drained after 20 minutes that Pierre gave him one look and said the French was out of the question and Roger couldn’t disagree. His body had completely rebelled on him. Full out mutiny. The doctor they called in called it an accumulation of things. Having a heat out of schedule, not eating right - he had lost 12 pounds - and while the doctor didn’t use the phrase ‘mental breakdown”, he didn’t quite have to, Roger knew he wasn’t in a good place. And that was without listening to the news. Or returning any of Tony Godsick calls, who was the only one on his team who had no idea he was an Omega, and Roger couldn’t face the shame of that. The disappointment of the older man was more than he could bear. He let Seve deal with him, and the Swiss wasn’t that pleased about that at all.

  
And through it all, he hasn’t spoken with Mirka. He left her dozens of messages she hasn’t returned, and so far, it made him feel sad and depressed, but now he was also angry.  
“You’re just going to stand there.” He asked, his lips clenched. “I called and called.”  
Mirka had the decency to look away. “I- I needed time.”  
“Time.” Roger repeated. “you know. I needed you. I mean - I actually needed you. And you - you abandoned me, because of a situation that I had little control over.”  
“I know. I’m sorry.” Her voice caught on the end of that, and Roger looked away, because if there was one thing he wasn’t used to doing was to make her cry, They didn't fight, the two of them. They just didn't.

He took a step toward her, but she shook her head. “Don’t. Just - don’t. You smell of him. You know? You smell of your - of your bond. That’s not something you could help, either? Bonds like these can’t be forced.”  
Roger flinched, recognizing the truth in that. “Had he forced me, no - there would be no bond, but it wasn’t like that. We’re - we were friends. It got - emotional, I responded to that. - It just happened.”  
He looked at her, she looked pale and thinner than normal. Probably wasn’t eating either. “What happened - when you were - when we were together in the hotel room. I barely remember any of it.”  
She shook her head rapidly. “I’ll tell you, but I don’t want to talk about that.”  
Roger frowned. “What - how do you mean. We have to talk about it.”  
“No. We don’t. And I don’t want to talk about it, not ever again. I don’t want to talk about how whatever I did wasn’t enough, or how much it scared me how delirious you were getting, or how, in that one time, that one time in five hours where I you actually came, it wasn’t - that it wasn’t- that it wasn’t my name you call-you called out.”  
Roger paled, literally, he felt like the blood got sucked out of his face. “Mirka.”  
“Shut up.”  Tears were clogging her voice. “I don’t want to hear it. This whole thing is also my fault. I know it was. I chose Andy, you just went along with that. We made a mistake.” She was crying earnestly then, that alone was enough to break his heart. “You promised me that would never happen.”

Roger closed his eyes at that, because he had promised her, back when they were young, back when he courted her, back when he revealed the truth to her about being Omega, that it would never matter. For over a decade he kept his word, until now.  
He had his arms around her then, tight, hugging her. And it was like he was a drowning man handed oxygen, because it felt so good to have her in his arms. But she wasn’t letting him, she struggled in his embrace, and eventually pushed him away.” I told you no! Not when you reek of another man, no. Just  - no. I can’t. Don’t touch me.”   
He stood there, breathing hard, his face were pale. “You can’t mean that.” Because he needed her engaged for this, to salvage them.

She shook her head, still crying.

“Mir.” He tried to control the tremor in his voice. “I can’t get over - I can’t get over this without your help. I can’t make it go away on in its own.” It. This. He couldn’t give it a name.

Mirka took a step closer, reached out and removed his scarf as Roger’s stood there, frozen.   
The signs of the bite were still very visible. She moved to touch it, and Roger grabbed her hands, both of her hands, by the wrists, and pulled her closer, flush against him. “Don’t walk away from me. You mean everything to me.” His voice cracked. “Don’t do this to us.”  
Her eyes searched his face. “Not everything, apparently.”  
His eyes closed at that, because he couldn’t bear to look at her and see all that hurt.  
She looked at the bite. “When did I ever get out of the habit of doing that.” She murmured to herself. “It’s been a long time.”  
“Too long.” Roger whispered. “Too damn long.”

She looked at him, he was still holding her wrists, rendering her immobile. She leaned forward, on her toes,  and nuzzled his throat. Roger shivered, and tilted his head back, letting go of her hands.

‘You can do whatever you want.” He whispered.

She didn’t did do it, instead, she pulled back. “When you’re mine again.” She raised her head to look at him. Her voice shook, “When you won’t smell like someone else.” Her face shattered. “I know I should, but I can’t.”  
Roger raised his head from the position of submission, flushed with humiliation. “Silly me.” He choked up. ‘For thinking you’d want to fight for me.” He moved away from her and turned, because he felt perilously close to crying. His hands trembled on the counter.

“Silly me.” She retorted. “For thinking I shouldn’t have to fight for something that was mine for so long.” She said, then her voice broke. “And I’m too scared to lose, and you’re not telling me I’m going to win, and you can’t promise me anything, I know you can’t, I know what it would be like for you from now on. What your body will demand. It won’t be me.” She wiped at her face.   
“That’s not true.”

“You don’t know that.”

Roger coughed, trying to mask the tears running down his face. “I guess that means I’m sleeping alone tonight?”  
“I will take the other room.”

Roger snorted. “You’re insane if you think I’m going to let you do that. Just stay in the main bedroom.” His hands were still gripping the counter.   
Slowly, she walked behind him and put a hand between his shoulder blades, gently. “Hey.” She said softly. “You want to eat something?”  
He shook her hand. “You think I’m hungry right now you don’t know me.” His voice came out harsh and pained.  
The hand on his back lingered. “Pierre said you were sick.”

Roger turned at that. “Like you care. Like you fucking care." He said hoarsely. "Or you wouldn’t have left me there, after a heat, alone, without as much as talking to me, without returning my calls. I felt so lonely I just wanted to *scream*, and this after I made a choice, a choice to come back to you, but this means nothing to you.”  
“I should say thank you?!” Her voice rose. “That after years of marriage and life and everything you came back to me after a week with Andy Roddick?! I should be grateful that you’re making this - this sacrifice? God damn you Roger!”  
“I never said that! Just show me that it wasn’t for nothing, Dammit!”  
His control snapped and he buried his face in his hands. “I wish I had taken the suppressants. Yes I’d be banned for a while but we’d be alright. It’s killing me what happened. To you, to Andy. I don’t want to be responsible for all this pain.”

She sighed, long and tormented and quavering. “It wasn’t - for nothing. It wasn’t, I just can’t - I can’t give you what you need from me right now, It hurts too much, smelling you, smelling your bond with another man. Don’t you see.” She wiped at her face. “I couldn’t stand to fight only to lose.”  
“So you’re giving up NOW?! Let us try, at least.” He pulled her toward him again, and buried his head in her hair. “Please. Please. We can’t throw what we had away.”  
Her eyes closed in pain. “Had.”

“What?”  
“You said had. What we had.”  
He blinked. “What. No - I.” He let out a whiff of sound, and stepped away from her, his eyes hollow. “I can’t. fucking can’t.”  
He turned around and walked to the other room. not looking back at her, because the frustration and injustice of his all was choking him up.  
“It’s not what you said, but what you haven’t.” Her voice stopped him. And he turned, his eyes questioning.

“I love you.” She whispered. “You never said it. Not even once.”  
“That you would even doubt that.” He said then, and continued walking, his heart heavy.  
He kicked his shoes off, removed his pants, and fell on the bed in the guest room, face forward. The sheets were cold. There was nothing of their shared life in that room. He muffled his cry of pain into the pillow.

He didn’t think he could feel any worse than he had the last few days. He was wrong. And the worse it all was that she was right, he couldn’t promise anything. A longing for Andy took hold on him and refused to let go. About fifteen times during the last few days he had fought the urge to call him. And Mirka, in her hurt, refused to reclaim him, she refused to fight for him. Everything she ever feared when they were younger materialized, and he couldn’t reassure her. Not without lying, to her, to himself.  
She had stopped biting him. He never thought it mattered. It was always a little awkward to hide it in the showers. So she only did it during heats, when she almost couldn’t help it. But the last off-season he his heat was just before a series of exhibitions, so locker-room problems again, and they’ve been together for many years now, their control was good, she could avoid the bite if she wanted too. So it turns out, it’s been two years. They were idiots for not seeing it. For not paying attention. For not thinking it mattered, for ignoring the basic biology of their bodies. “I suck.” He said to himself. “I suck.”

  
He heard the door behind him opening, and the dip of the bed and the smell of hot soup.  
“You have to eat.” She whispered. “Pierre said your physical condition can put the entire season at risk. Not to mention your health. It’s tomato soup with cream. It’s - “  
“I’m really not hungry.” He said, because he wasn’t, even though both Pierre and the doctor gave him a very strict diet he was suppose to maintain to gain the weight again. He couldn’t find it in him to care. “If you’re not going to stay, just go.” He said, not lifting his head.   
There was a long pause, then the bed dipped further as she sat on it, on top of the covers, propping herself up. Her feet were bare.   
He lifted his head, his eyes questioning and hopeful. Her eyes were red. “If I stay here for a while, you’ll eat something?”  
He smiled tiredly. “Seriously? You’re bribing me now?”  
“Is it working?”  
He studied her for a moment, then nodded. With a sigh he sat next to her, as she handed him the steaming mug of soup. He sipped it slowly, forcing himself. He had no appetite whatsoever, he hasn’t felt normal hunger in more than a week. It was beginning to freak him out a little. When he was done. He put the mug down, and looked at his wife, who was watching him. Very carefully, she reached out to caress his face, gently.  
He closed his eyes at her touch, his lips parting with a sigh. “Are you tired?”  
He nodded, then sighed. “I have no energy whatsoever. I pulled out of the French.”   
“I know. Pierre told me. I - I didn’t know what to think at first, but looking at you now...” She shook her head in distaste. “He took horrible care of you. At least he could have done that. You lost a lot of weight.”  
Roger bit lip. “He didn’t. Come on. You know that’s not true, you know I can’t ever eat normally during a heat, and this time I was even more messed up.”  
“Your heat been done for three days.” she retorted. “Why aren’t you better, if he did such a good job?”  
Roger shot her a look. “Because after a heat, you’re not suppose to be hugging a Goddamn pillow. That one not on Andy, Mir.”  
She looked away and he regretted it instantly, closing his eyes. “I don’t mean - I really tried to understand. It wasn’t easy. It’s been rough couple of days.”  
She shook her head. “No. I am sorry. Going away -  It was wrong of me, I couldn’t deal with it, I still can’t.” There was a pause. “Do you have feelings for him?”  
“No. Don’t. Please don’t. Don’t ask me that, not now.” It came out a lot more panicky than he meant.  
Her eyes widened, filled with anger, than sadness. “It’s really isn’t just about the heat, is it?” She stopped, and inhaled, because the pain of that was overwhelming.  
“I-I don’t know.” He whispered. “It’s - really confusing. I don’t know how to tell it apart. Please, can we focus on us, and not on...” He buried his face on her shoulder and let his words falter. “I know I love you. Just tell me you’re staying here with me.  
She hesitated. “Maybe for a little while. Until you fall asleep.”  
He gave her a despairing look and she bit her lip. “I’m trying, Roger. I’m here aren’t I? I need - time. Look - Come here. Just try to rest a bit.” She moved a hand over her face. “It kills me to see you like that.”  
Roger wasn’t about to object. He laid down, and rested his head on her thigh, taking a shuddering breath. Instantly he felt better, he curled against his wife, who had his hand in his hair, caressing softly.

  
But a moment before sleep overtook him, he was flooded with a strong sensation that he was doing something wrong. He felt like he felt in the days of his heat, he felt like a dirty cheat. Only, not to his wife this time, but to Andy. His throat pulsed in a way that was not comfortable and a low burn started in his chest, low but insistent. He gasped.

“What, what’s wrong?”  
He lifted his head from her leg. “Nothing. I -” He took a deep breath. “You know how you’re just a moment from falling asleep and you jerk awake by something?”  
She frowned at him in concern, and he lowered his head again to her lap, shoving the voices and the emotions out-out-out of the way. Focusing on the fact he was in his wife’s arms, and that he was home, and that was what he wanted. It was.


	7. Chapter 7

_The sun was warm on his face. He rolled toward the Swiss on the towel next to him at the noise. “What the fuck are you doing?”_   
_“What does it look like I’m doing?” Roger frowned at him. “Reading a magazine?”_   
_“You’re practically slurping on this popsicle, it’s distracting.”_   
_Roger snorted and put the magazine away. “Yeah, why?” He gave the half-eaten popsicle a long lick. “What’s on your mind.”_   
_Andy practically felt his dick twitching. “Your mouth, on my dick.”_   
_Roger smirked and glanced down, to where Andy’s dick was tenting his boxer shorts. “What, already? Geez. You don’t give a man a break.”_   
_Andy cocked an eyebrow. “Wore you out?”_   
_Roger shot him a look, than bent down, to mouth Andy’s dick through his shorts._   
_“Fuck!” Andy gasped, his hips shooting up. “Fuck - your lips are cold.”_   
_Roger snorted again, and Andy’s stomach twitched, because vibrationsfuckyeah._   
_Roger continued mouthing him for a while, through his shorts, while Andy leaned back. It was a dense, moist contact, Roger breathing hot air on his dick._   
_He was thrusting with his hips just so, because the indirect contact was driving him wild.”Rog. Fuck. Get down to business.”_   
_He could feel Roger’s smirking, and then he lowered his shorts, and swallowed him to the hilt.  Andy cried out as Roger rubbed his tongue hard on the head of Andy’s dick, right on that pulsing vein, and he could feel the tingling in his balls already and let out a choked sound that might have been “Stop” and might have been “Please.”, and Roger pushed down on them and lifted his head, letting his dick hang, wet and cold, from his lips. “Come on. Don’t come yet.”_   
_Andy let out a tight chuckle, wriggling his hips. “Fuck. I can’t handle that tongue thing you’re doing, when you’re rubbing over it like that. It’s too intense like that.”_   
_Roger gave him another strong lick, and Andy’s hips twitched. “Eff you.”_   
_Roger smirked, and went back at it. Slower, sweeter. Keeping his lips tight but not overly so. Allowing Andy to relish, and to built toward it, rather than push him off the peak of the mountain._   
_“So good.” Andy sighed, and gripped the Swiss’s ridiculously soft hair. “You’re doing it so good.”_ _Roger was breathing heavily now,  rubbing himself against Andy’s leg. Andy moved his leg just so, because he fucking loved it, Roger getting off while sucking him. He could feel him intensifying the sucking, and then there was a finger underneath his balls, rubbing slightly on his perineum. And he groaned as he thrust forward, into the tight wet heat of Roger’s mouth, and fuckit, he was coming, he was coming now, he-_

Andy sat up in bed, startled awake and groaned loudly as he could feel himself erupting, shuddering with it. His toes splayed painfully against the bed, his limbs rigid as he shot in his boxers. There was blood in his mouth from the intensity of that. Fuckno. Not again. Third time this week.  
“Fuck!” He dropped back on the bed, panting and exhausted, turned to his side, and kicked his soiled boxers off. He wiped himself with a corner of the bedsheet, not bothering to get up, and curled miserable and naked in the blanket.  
He looked outside. The windows in his hotel were large and the the Parisian dawn was gorgeous from out his window.

He booked an extra fancy hotel this time, on a whim he couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the week he spent in Roger’s very expensive suit. It wasn’t that he wasn’t well-off, he definitely was, and he could totally afford this room. Still, he was still the dude from Texas, and that kind of accommodation always felt a bit much. But it was large, and it was private, and it was a little more removed from the rest of the guys, and the jacuzzi was to die for. If only he wasn’t staying there by himself.  
Roger occupied 70% of his waking times, and most of his dreams. He had wet dreams like he haven’t had since he was 15.  
He had his first match in a couple of hours, and he was a mess physically and mentally. He didn’t know what he was doing there, but he wasn’t sure there is any place in the world that would set him right, and make him forget about a man who wanted to be elsewhere.

The atmosphere in the locker-room grated on his nerves. The guys making dirty jokes in the locker-room, which he made them realize right away he wouldn’t put up with, even though normally he’s the first guy to joke around and make sarcastic and crude remarks.  
He hated it, a bunch of alphas making jokes and patting him on the back, like he made some valuable conquest. More than one person talked about the benefits of fucking Roger. How it might help Andy beat him.

But when Feli Lopez, mostly naked, dripping of water, leaned against his locker, smirked and said he expects a lot of guys to try and sleep with Roger, to try to change their head-to-head, while totally ignoring the fact only a true alpha-Omega bond achieved during a heat affected performance in competition, and somehow implying Roger is a slut, Andy had enough.  
He turned to him, gave him a cold look, and said, out loud, so everyone in the locker-room could hear. “Dream on, Feli. Like any Omega would come to you during a heat. There are Betas more dominant than you. I wouldn’t know, but I imagine it would be like scratching an itch with a feather. Fucking useless.”  
The tanned spaniard literally whitened. It was common knowledge around the tour that Feli presented as an alpha late, very late. Out of his teens. It was also common knowledge that he secretly wished he presented otherwise, if only so Fernando Verdasco, who thought only Omega could complete him, or some shit like that, would look at him like a potential love interest, not just the occasional fuck.

So, he never truly accepted who he was, and in return, his ability to attract Omegas who were mainly interested in virile alphas - was relatively low, shocking keeping in mind that the man looked like a fucking God and you could count his abs in the dark. And no one ever, ever, brought that up in his company.  
“Fel - “ Andy started, with a twinge of regret, because Feli didn’t say anything different than what others already said to him, but the man shot a string of vile curses in spanish at him, and stalked away. Fernando, silently, left after him, shooting Andy a dirty look he gladly returned, and his eyes said ‘just try me, you fucking fuck’.  
Rafa’s eyes, from across the room, were dark and knowing, but not accusing, even though these two were his friends. He turned away from that look, Rafa saw right through him.

Regardless of everyone’s reactions, turned out more people knew the truth than he thought. The old guard, especially, the new balls generation, who grew up playing Roger on the Junior tour. He and Mardy played mostly in the states, so he never really known Roger well when they were kids.  
Hewitt  apparently known for a long while. Indirectly. Roger’s connection to Australia and Australians ran deep. And it was apparently a well-kept secret there. He practiced with Hewitt two days ago, because they learned to get along in their later years. Lleyton, even though not tall and not physically impressive, was probably the guy who defined ‘alpha player’ on tour, and they butted heads all the time when they were young. He felt like Lleyton was seeking his company intentionally when he asked him to train with him, because on clay, he wasn’t anyone’s first choice as practice partner, and that day he was especially horrible.  
When they stopped to drink, Lleyton stopped him. “You look odd, mate. You make bloody stupid mistakes, you’re playing distracted.”  
Andy didn’t have it in him to lie. “Yeah. Sorry, man. I’m  - I’m in a bit of a weird place right now, Lleyton.”  
The Australian wiped the sweat from his forehead and squinted at him in the sun. “Did you fuck him too rough or what? Not like Roger to miss a slam.”  
Andy gave Lleyton a sharp look. “What makes you thinking I’m fucking going to talk to you about any of this?”  
“You walk around looking as guilty as fuck, that’s why I’m asking.”  
Andy shifted restlessly. “I am, but it’s not because I physically hurt him or something like that.”

Lleyton leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’ve known he was Omega since he was 13.” He said, in hushed tones, because there were fans and other players around. “I heard a conversation, between Darren Cahill and Peter Carter.” He looked away. “Darren thought I had more potential - but not because of my tennis, but because I was an alpha . Peter argued with him, said it doesn’t matter that Roger is an Omega. His tennis was sublime. He was very progressive, Peter. The fact Roger was so emotionally volatile as a kid didn’t help his cause much, you know? But Peter thought he could really make it big, in spite of being Omega, even though he went into heat when he was still playing 14 and under. Darren thought he wouldn’t make it out of Juniors class.   
Anyway, after that - I milked being an alpha as far as I could. There are little tricks you can do, to get to an Omega, especially when you’re teenageers. Like, pretending you can smell them even though they’re not in heat. Accidental touching. Shit like that.  Lets just say that the fact that I won our first meetings isn’t just due to my tennis. I was bloody mad that they thought he was better. So I played dirty. When Roger grew up into his body and learned to get over it, I started losing and then he left all of us in a trail of dust.” He snorted slightly.  
Andy wasn’t in the mood, he cocked an eyebrow. “You’re telling me this, why?”  
Lleyton rubbed his face. “I don’t know. I never talked to him about it. Not really. If you talk to him, tell him not to give a fuck. Not about the press, not about the guys. Not about anything. He’s the best there ever was, that’s all he should know.”  
Andy was not amused.“Christ. Lleyton, last time I checked, talking to Roger isn’t exactly a struggle. He’s a pretty open, talkative guy. You tell him that yourself. Call and tell him exactly that. It would mean a lot to him coming from you. I imagine he’s low on confidence and worried about his return to the tour. So be fucking supportive, talk to him, not to me.”  
Hewitt nodded, recognizing the truth in that. “Yeah. Okay. You’re right. Are *you* talking to him?”  
“See, I know you’re smarter than this. Several reasons why this is a bad idea.”  
Hewitt’s eyes widened as he studied him. “Fuck. You want him.” It was only half a question.  
Andy glowered. “You’re gonna mock? I know it’s useless, everyone told me to leave it well enough alone. Roger included. I can’t. I can’t fucking do nothing but think about him. You asked why I’m pathetic right now, that’s why. Hard to play tennis when you got this weighting on you.”  
Hewitt shrugged. “Mate, do I strike you as a guy who doesn’t go after what he wants? You want him? Go get him, just don’t fuck around if it isn’t serious, because you will fuck up his life but good.”  
Andy stared at him. “Really? You’re not going to give me shit about breaking up a marriage and how perfect Roger and Mirka’s relationship is?”  
Hewitt made a face.”They always looked happy enough. Doesn’t mean you two can’t work, as well.” He glanced at Andy “Though honestly, you’re different like night and day. You need to be sure it isn’t just about the sex, because heat sex can be pretty fucking explosive, mate, but other than the heat, it’s like any other relationship. And if you’re trying to get him to leave ten years of a good thing for you, then you better be bloody well worth it.“  
Andy shrugged.“Yeah. I don’t know if I am. Worth it, I mean. To sacrifice what he already have. He’s pretty messed up and I don’t want to make it worse.” He ran a hand over his face. “He wasn’t exactly handling it all well. I had to give him some space”  
Lleyton gave him a measuring look. “How badly do you miss him?”  
Andy didn’t reply to that, and Lleyton slapped his back. “Sorry, mate.”  
Andy got up, because if there was one thing he just couldn’t stand, was Hewitt’s fucking sympathy. “Lets just practice a bit more, okay?”  
Lleyton nodded, and they got up to finish their practice, and Andy only did marginally less worse than before.

That was two days ago. Then the draw Gods thought it would be funny to put Lleyton as his first round. And fuck it, Lleyton was ranked below him, but he was better on clay. He didn’t relish on going out and meet him today for a slugfest only the Aussie, and maybe Rafa Nadal and David Ferrer, could provide. Andy reached out to his phone, and logged on to some news site, to check on weather and such. Then held the phone in the palm of his hand, went through his contact list, stopping when he got to Roger. The Swiss smiley face grinned dorkily at him.  
He closed his eyes at the spike of longing in his chest, and put the phone aside. He wouldn’t call. He wouldn’t be that pitiful. He kicked off the blanket, and rolled out of bed toward the shower. Ready to get his ass handed to him by fucking Lleyton Hewitt.

\------

 _“_ Mirka. Morning. is he up?”  
“No. Still asleep. What did you do last night that made him so tired? He collapsed into bed and hasn’t woken up since.”  
Pierre frowned. “Nothing too strenuous, but he was wiped when we were done.” He paused. “How are things?”  
She bit her lip. “Not great, I’m sure he’s telling you all about it.”  
“No. He’s not. He wouldn’t talk about it with me anymore. He closed up. I know it’s - hard on you, but are you at least trying?”  
She was silent and Pierre groaned. “Are you at least - tell me you’re sleeping in the same bed as he, at the very least.”  
She sat down on the couch, and wiped at her face.“No. We’re taking it slow.”  
“Taking what slow? Saving your marriage? This is too goddamn slow. Mirka, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you have a certain responsibility here, not only to what happened, which was  
due to your suggestion, but to what’s happening now. As his alpha, you just can’t do this.”  
She let out a whoof of air. “It hurts. I’m hurt. I can’t look at him and not think abou-“?  
“You’re being childish, and it’s unlike you.” He said in a harsh, clipped tone. “Just know the risks. Roger has alternatives elsewhere. He chose you. He has two bonds, and yet he’s sleeping alone at night. That’s - you can’t put him through that. I mean, you can put your husband through this, if you want, but you can’t put an Omega through this. He’ll either have a breakdown, if he’s not well on his way there, or go seek the alpha who will not freeze him out.” His voice gentled. “Mirka. I know you’re hurting, I understand, but he’s in trouble. I can’t stress it enough. If you love him, you will put everything aside. You have to. If he continues to look like that in practice I’m going to tell him that my advice is to pull the plug on this tennis year until the US open, he will never listen to me, and he’s going to put his health in serious danger.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “You need to meet him half way, or lose him.”

\-------

 _His mouth was filled with the tang of the American, and he held him in his mouth just enough for Andy to stop shuddering. Then pulled back, and rested his forehead on Andy’s stomach, still swallowing, breathless and hard. Andy’s hand was heavy on his head and his voice was thick. “Fuck.” Andy groaned. “That was hot.”_   
_“Yeah. I know.” His voice was a rough sob. “For me too, Now touch me.”_  
_“Come’re”_  
_Andy tugged him up, till he was flat on top of him, his hard dick against Andy’s stomach, and Andy had both hands on his ass, clutching, rocking, rubbing him, bringing him to a fast and furious climax while he held on and oh-oh-oh. He was coming, he was coming ohhhhh._  
_Slowly, the rocking and the rubbing of his ass turned to a caress, and a gentle rub of his thighs, massage-like. He sighed, sinking into Andy, burying his face in his throat._

Roger woke up in a start as Mirka walked into the room, and he practically jumped off the bed with maddening guilt and confusion. She froze. “What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing.” He said, startled, flush with embarrassment and arousal. He hadn’t come, but he was hard and close. He looked away and pulled the blanket closer around him. “You just startled me, I was asleep.”  
She smiled slightly, a little cautiously. “Yeah. I know. Pierre called, you need to be on court in an hour. It’s 10:30 AM.” She sat on the bed next to him. “You don’t sleep that late anymore.”  
“Practice was tough yesterday.” He grumbled, because he was fucking HARD.  
She frowned at him. “You practically collapsed in bed. I told Pierre I think you should dispense with fitness training this morning, but he said you insisted.”  
He wiped the sleep crumbs from his eyes. “I have to get fit, Mir. it’s no use trying to play like that. I refuse to miss Wimbledon, and I want to play Halle, too.”  
She nodded, he was happy that she didn’t try to argue, she knew how important it was for him. “Want breakfast in bed?” She smiled slightly.  
He smiled back, because this was progress. “No. Um. Too much laziness. I’ll just get up.” He closed his eyes as he said it, because now she expected him to get up, and even though he slept with boxer shorts, no way would his wife miss the fact he was tenting in his boxers.  
But no choice there, so he got up, allowed the blanket to drop and trotted off to the bathroom, not checking whether she noticed, he knew she did.  
He was splashing water on his face, leaning over the sink, when he felt a very familiar pair of arms around him, crossing at his belly-button, and lips pressing against his back.  He shivered, a full body tremble.  
He lifted his head, and braced the sink with his hands. His voice was hoarse. “Don’t do this unless you mean it. I have no control.”  
He turned to her, in the circle of her arms.  Her eyes were soft on him. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t mean it.”  
He made himself unclenched his lower lip. “This - you don’t sleep in the same bed as me, you’re talking to me about the most mundane things. You’re hurting, you’re angry. And I get all that - Now you want to sleep together just because I’m hard first thing in the morning?! That’s - I don’t get it.”  
She caressed his cheek, and she watched as he shivered again. “I’m starving you. I hate it.”  
He wasn’t going to deny that. “Yes.” He tried to relax, but his entire body was wound up as one big knot of longing. “Doesn’t mean you have to sleep with me if you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter that you’re the alpha here, you still don’t have to - it feels wrong knowing you don’t want it. His throat was raw.” He squeezed her arms, drawing her near. “This is good. This is enough for now. I don’t need more.We can work on things, we can do that - slower.”  
She bit her upper lip. “Yeah. Maybe I just need to know that you still want me.” Roger closed his eyes at that, because that quiet admission made his heart ache, and kissed her, hard and rough. She let out a choked sound. Two hands wrapped around his neck. He turned her, and lifted her so she was sitting on the counter. Then undid the buttons on her blouse, one by one, letting it fall open, and stepped between her legs. Her eyes bore into him, curious and apprehensive. “Are you still interested?”  
He looked at her like she grew another head, and she cocked her head at him. “I don’t know --” She murmured. “Maybe you lost your interests in breasts.”  
His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “I still like breasts, Mir. A lot.” He lifted her legs to his waist and yanked her closer. “I still love you, too. I’m the same person.”  
He kissed her, soft this time, and she pulled him in, slowly, into her.

It was everything making love with Andy wasn’t. She was soft where he was hard, the position was obviously different, but off his heat, it mattered a lot less. God, she felt good, she was his wife and he loved her and her moans as he started thrusting hard were arousing as heck. And it was good, it was fine, it was as it always was and he let out a growl and gave himself up to the pleasure.  
But just when he closed his eyes and melted into the contact, so familiar and sweet in it’s familiarity, his bond with Andy awakened.  
It was actual physical pain, coiling and burning in his gut,  taking away his breath. He groaned, for the wrong kind of reason. It was a flood of guilt. Guilt to choke him, to remind him he belonged to another.   
Mirka misjudged the groan, and pulled him even closer. His hands tightened on her shoulders as he thrust in her, but that just made the bond protest louder, angrier.  His lungs contracted painfully, fire burning in his gut.  
He could feel himself softening, helpless against the pain of it, his mind reeling. He clutched at her, chasing his arousal, but there was no way. It was gone. Just like that.  
He lowered his forehead to her shoulder and froze. “Mir.” His voice was a plea for forgiveness and understanding.  
She opened her eyes and looked at him, a sheen of sweat on her upper lip, and then realization dawned, she inhaled wetly. “God.” She spat out. “You love me? You can barely touch me.”  
He held her to him, helplessly. “That’s not true. It’s just - the bond.”  
She shoved him away from her, pushing her skirt down. “The bond? It’s not an independent thing. It’s you, it’s part of you! It’s who you are.”  
Roger ran a hand over his face, and pulled his shorts back up, completely mortified. “I don’t know why this happened. I don’t!”  
Her eyes darkened. “Maybe I should wear a strap-on from now on. Maybe that’s what you need. What I have isn’t enough.”  
The shame sliced through him. “It has nothing to do with any of that! I’m as attracted to you as I always was! I’m not in heat, there shouldn’t be any issue. It felt good until - ”  
“Then it’s just that you’re in love with someone else.”  
He looked away sharply at that. And she buried her face in her hands. “You are. You’re in love with Andy.”  
He swallowed, hard. “I don’t know what I feel. it doesn’t change how I feel about you. I just - I need more time, to forget this. I- I have a bond with him, it won’t let me be.”’ His voice faltered. He barely believed himself, why should she believe him.”This felt good. You feel good. I don’t WANT to feel like this.” He reached out to her, only to get pushed away.  
His voice shattered. “Just - give me time. Okay. Just - give me time.”  
She held his face in her hands. “So what can happen? Rogi? So you can teach your body how to want me again?” Her voice was bitter, and empty. “So you could convince yourself I’m the one you want?”  
“You could bite me.” He whispered. “Maybe that would work.”  
“You’re not in heat.”  
“We could induce one.” His voice trembled.”There are plenty of ways to induce a heat off cycle, I’ll skip Wimbledon.”  
She stared at him with horror. “Are you crazy?  Did you look at yourself? You can’t go into heat twice a month, it’s barely safe twice a year!.”  
“What do you suggest, then? Tell me, and I’ll do it.”  
she wiped the tears away with the butt of her palm. “I don’t know. I thought I did, this is what - I was trying to do. Win you back.”  
“I know.” He whispered painfully and pressed his forehead against hers. “Can we just - try to make everything normal again. Just - one step at the time. I’m trying, I really am. Maybe this is something we can’t do right now, but we can do other things.”  
She didn’t reply at first, then said, bitterness lacing her voice. “Be my wife, I just can’t sleep with you, that’s what you’re saying. I have some pride, Roger. I thought you understood that.”  
“You’re an alpha, MY alpha. You’re suppose to want to fight for me.”  
Her hand tightened hard on his wrist, her fingers digging into his skin. “You’re my husband, I’m not suppose to fight for anything. You’re suppose to love me. Just me.”  
She raised piercing brown eyes to him. “In the battle of the biology I will lose every time to a male Alpha who claimed you. I won’t fight this battle. I refuse to.”  
Roger pulled back to look at her, words lodged in his throat. “I - I just need us to take that part slower, but -” He closed his eyes against the shame of it. “You’re so remote, it’s - difficult.”  
“Because you miss me, or because you need a warm body to cuddle with at night? Is that Roger my husband who misses and wants me, or is it just an Omega after his heat who needs an alpha?”  
He met her eyes levelly. “Both. It’s both, Mir. We’re the same person.”  
“Right. In the meantime, I have to settle for half a marriage because of the third alpha in our bed.” pulled herself straight, and stepped away from him a little. “You should get ready for your practice.”  
Roger inhaled harshly and she looked away. “Just - go practice. Roger. I -” She gulped on her tears. “I can’t give you whatever it is you want from me right now. I don’t think you know yourself what it is that you want.”  
“There’s no one I want in my bed but you.” He whispered.  
“We both know that’s only partly true, if it’s true at all.” She searched his face. “Who did you dream of, when I entered the room? This wasn’t a morning erection, this was you going to *burst*.”  
Roger flushed red hot, then paled. She turned around. “And you say you want me in your bed. It’s a sad joke. Fuck you, Roger. Just go.”

\--------

“Fuck!” Andy gasped, as his lungs tightened suddenly mid-match, trailing Lleyton 4-2 in the first. It was as if he was kicked in the gut. Mid point, he dropped his racquet, and fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He felt like he was ripped open, like he tore an abdominal muscle, only worse, like his heart was split into two, and his life’s blood was spilling out.  
Lleyton's blurry form was at the net. “Andy? You okay mate?  
Andy shook his head no and curled on the dirt. The Doctor was there, but he didn’t quite hear him. It was too painful to breath. Not crying out was the most he could accomplish. He felt like he was going to die.  
He was hurling on the clay, unable to to pull himself together, unable to breath.

A minute later, an hour later, it stopped. Just like that. He lifted his head and wiped his mouth, a ball girl handed him water, which he took, and he raised his eyes to Lleyton’s red, sweaty and concerned face. The crowd was whispering amongst themselves. The Doctor was clutching his arm.“Andy?”  
“Yeah.” He said hoarsely. “Fuck. What happened?”  
“Can you breath properly now?”  
“Yeah.” He gasped. “Now I can.I don’t know what the fuck was that! God, It felt-” He closed his eyes against the sickness. “Like was having a heart-attack. But it’s gone now.”  
The Doctor helped him to the bench and tilted his head toward him as he took his pulse, and then he dropped his hand.  
“What?” Andy asked. “You have a funny look on your face.”  
The Doctor bit the inside of his cheek. “You have - a yellow glint in your eyes. Off court treatment, I think.” He glanced toward the umpire, who looked at Andy and nodded.  
Andy, cautious, got up slowly, and left the court along with the Doctor, sending Lleyton an apologetic look as he went past him. Lleyton’s expression was tense as he waved him off.?  
Once they were off court, in the area they used for treatments, the Doctor turned to look at him. “Andy, I don’t know how to put it delicately - and I don’t mean to pry, but - you have a recent bond, don’t you?” As Andy froze, the Doctor stressed further. “A recently unfulfilled bond? Meaning you recently achieved a bond with an Omega, but he’s not around here.”  
Andy gave the smallest of nods. ”What’s the relevance to what happened to me?”  
The doctor was pale. “What happened to you - is what happens when a strong, or a very fresh bond is - violated, or on his way to - becoming violated. It’s called Cruentis Cor. You might know it as the Bleeding Heart syndrome. The symptoms present to be those of a heart attack, though it is more closely associate with a panic attack.”  
Andy’s eyes opened wide. “Fuck.”  
Then he looked away, because the knowledge of what happened HURT as badly as what he felt. “Are you sure that is it? It only lasted about 30 seconds or so, right?” He snorted bitterly. “That’s a  
pretty short ‘violation’”  
“It isn’t easy.” The doctor said. “To violate a bond. There consequences, and not just for the alpha.”  
“So, he was feeling this too?”  
“Or a similar sensation, yes. That depends on many - variables. But - I don’t think you should continue with the match at present time. There are lingering affects, and your pulse is still irregular.”  
Andy lowered his face to his hands, and nodded. “Anything to do so this won’t happen again?”  
The doctor looked at him grimly. “Short of the situation not repeating itself? The passage of time, in which a new bond fades or lessens. Severing the bond, which can be done - but I wouldn’t recommend doing without hospitalization of both parties involved.”  
Andy’s brow furrowed. “Can you do that? I mean, obviously bonds can fade away, I know that, but I never heard of a new bond severed this way.” He shrugged. “Not sure I was paying attention, though.”  
The Doctor nodded. “There are methods, they’re not pleasant emotionally or physically, and Surgical methods are experimental at best, you don’t want to mess up with biology too much unless situation becomes dire.”  
Andy sighed. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks. I get it.” He bit his lip. “Can you tell them outside I cannot continue? I don’t feel much like going back out there. They are French, I’ll get booed.”  
“What about Hewitt?” The Doctor asked, familiar with the tennis etiquette.  
Andy waved it off. “We're good.”  
The Doctor smiled slightly nodded, then left, leaving Andy to his thoughts.

He was still sitting there, focused on his breathing and the shadow of that empty feeling that still lingered, when Lleyton walked back into the locker-room, dropped Andy’s bags in front of him, and gave him a knowing look. “They didn’t like it very much when you didn’t come back out. I take it you’re not having a heart-attack?” He said conversationally.  
Andy shook his head mutely. “Sorry about the retirement, man.”  
Lleyton waved it away. “It’s a win, mate. One I was sort of counting about, to be honest. You were utter horse shit at practice, and this is clay.” He sat next to him. “He’s trying to make it work with Mirka.” It was not phrased as a question.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Andy said, in a clipped tone. “To think about it is - a physical struggle, almost.”  
Lleyton rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to fight for him, at all, give him a call. Now. Today.”  
Andy gave Lleyton an exasperated look, “Thanks for the pointers, Hewitt, but enough, really.”  
Lleyton shrugged. “Suit yourself, be a fucking martyr, see if I care. Hopefully I draw you in Wimbledon as well? Maybe I can give Mirka a call, and tell her to put on her best nightgown and ouffff…”  
Andy shoved him against the wall. “You fucking son of a bitch.”  
Lleyton was guarded but unresisting. “Get the fuck off it. It’s not me you want to beat up.” His voice dropped a notch. “I don’t understand why you’re giving up.”  
Andy, breathing hard, let him go. “I don’t think I can or want to explain that to you beyond what I already said. Fucking drop it, though. I know you meant well, but fucking drop this. You’re not really best pals with either Roger or me. It’s none of your business. Leave it alone.”  
Lleyton grimaced, then shrugged. “Consider it dropped. Get your head screwed on right before Wimbledon, otherwise neither of you are making it past the first round and it’s going to be fucking ugly. Good for the rest of us, but ugly.”

\----

Pierre paced nervously at the court, and glanced at Severin. “Where is he?”  
Severin glanced at him. “Why are you nervous, he had a difficult practice last night, and then more training with you. He’s not an early riser, he’s running a little late, what’s the big deal?  
Pierre rubbed his face. “I had a conversation with Mirka an hour or so ago, and - I just looked at the Roland Garros slam tracker. Andy Roddick lost.”  
Severin wrinkled his nose. “O-kay. It is clay, after all. Why do you think this is significant?”  
“He retired. Mid-Match with Hewitt, with something described as respiratory distress.”  
“Still not following.”  
Pierre frowned. “Heard of the bleeding heart syndrome? Symptoms like a panic attack or a heart attack?”  
Severin’s eyes bugged out. “That’s when an Omega cheats on his bonded alpha, what’s the relevanc-oh. Oh shit.” He bit his lip. “What did you tell Mirka.”  
“To work harder on saving her marriage. Godammit. I did not - this syndrome is not that common and -” He wiped at his mouth. “I was afraid he would crack if she continues to freeze him out. Very possibly I made things a lot worse.”  
“Pierre, there he is.” Severin gestured with his head as Roger entered the court, with his bags.  
The Swiss sank on the bench with a sign, in a sunny spot. “Sorry. Just give me a minute. It was rough getting out of bed this morning.” He didn’t look at either of them  
“Roger.” Pierre started. He sat next to him, and gave him his cell. The results of Andy’s match and reason for his retirement were available in the application.  
Roger stared blankly at the cellphone, his hands were shaking. Then he buried his face in his hands. “I could tell it was the bond protesting. I mean, I knew what I was doing at the time.” He said miserably. “Then I read online a bit. The bleeding heart syndrome? I’ve heard of that before.”  
Pierre nodded silently.  
“Andy probably had no idea what was happening to him. Shit. Shit.”  
“The other article said he was lying on the court in pain for a minute and was advised not to continue, did it hit you so badly?”  
Roger shook his head no. “It hurt but I could - I - we, I had to stop, but I kept my mind, you know? It didn’t feel like a heart attack, or like I was having a severe medical condition, I realized it was bond-related.”  
“Secondary bond.” Pierre said softly. “You have a secondary bond with Mirka, that helps with the symptoms.”  
“To me.” Roger lifted his head, his eyes wet. “It doesn’t do much for Andy.”  
“No.”  
“What happened with Mirka, Rog?” Sev asked him.  
Roger looked away. “Imagine your worst and you wouldn’t be far off. Nothing like having your husband stop in the middle, because he’s so guilty about sleeping with you because of his bond with another man.”  
“It’s not regular guilt.” Pierre said. “What I mean is - it’s not mental. It’s a real physical thing. It manifests itself in a very physical way.”  
“Which is a product of my own emotions. Lets not lie to ourselves.”  
“Merde!” Pierre swore. “I apologize, Roger. I - saw you yesterday, I wanted to give her a push in the right direction. A newly bonded Omega without physical contact - it’s dangerous for your health, and you definitely can’t play tennis like that.”  
“A push.” Roger said blankly. “More like a shove. She barely touched me since I got back, I didn’t think she would want to - It felt good until it didn’t.“ He closed his eyes. “Look, I don’t want to talk about it anymore, lets just do a light training, see how that feels.” He gave Pierre a hard look. “You WILL get my to Wimbledon in decent shape.” He looked at Severin. “Both of you. I’m not pulling out.”  
Pierre’s mouth quirked a little. “I promise to try, but Roger - you need to eat, drink and not to be alone.”  
Roger glared at him. “I was working on that, until you decided to put your two cents in. Just - leave my marriage to me. Don’t advise Mirka behind my back.”?  
Pierre nodded. “I promise. I made a blunder of that. I admit.”  
Roger moved his hand through his hair.’ “I need to speak with Andy now.”  
Severin’s eyes bulged out. “Roger, don’t.”  
“I made him lose! I cannot be - I can’t pretend nothing happened! I can’t.”  
“The bond needs to fade, Roger. Talking to Andy would reawaken what has faded.”  
“Nothing faded.”   
As both men looked at him, he looked to the floor. “There are - dreams. Vivid dreams.”  
“Erotic dreams?” Pierre asked pointedly.  
Roger nodded, still looking down. Then raised his head. “Why? Is that - significant?”  
Pierre swallowed. “I believe they are - shared dreams.”  
Roger flushed. “You mean Andy is dreaming the same thing?”  
“Or a variation of it, yeah. If you’re already speaking to him, try to find out.”  
“Right.” Roger grumbled. “Like the conversation isn’t going to be uncomfortable enough. Why is that important?”  
Pierre sighed. “You’re not the first married Omega in the world who ended up bonded with another alpha during a heat away from home, Roger. There are ways to forcefully severe a strong bond if all parties involved desire it. Most of them - are unpleasant, and some of them are dangerous. I don’t think you’re there yet and regardless, you’re not well enough physically for that.”  
Roger sighed. “It feels like I should ask more, but I don’t really want to.” He got up. “As much as I want to sit here in the sun. Lets train.”

\------

 

Nothing, nothing, was as sweet as the sight of the airport in Austin, Texas, as his feet reached home soil. A week at home, then Queens preparation, on Grass.  
But what he wanted now was a greasy burger. With bits of bacon on the side. Yum. He didn’t touch the food on the plane and now his stomach was screaming for some fucking attention.  
He had the rented car stop at the nearest junk food place, ordered his burger, took it back to the rented car, and was about to wolf it down when his cell ringed. Roger  
He stared at the phone, and with a lump in his throat, picked up. “Hi.”  
There was silence, for a moment, then. “Hi. Um, I’m calling - “ Roger sighed. “Jesus, Andy. Are you alright?”  
“Fucking Peachy. I was about to eat that great looking burger when you killed my appetite just now.”  
“I’m so sorry.”  
Andy’s mouth quirked in an ugly smile. “For what? Betraying me, making me lose, or fucking up my life?” His hand tightened on the soda, for the first time since this morning, he was flooded in a jealous RAGE.  
“All of it.” Roger whispered. “I’m sorry about all of it.”  
“I’m sure Mirka was happy. Claiming you back.”  
Roger’s snort of dismay was audible. “Right. When was the last time you tried to have sex when it felt like your lungs are hreld in giant clamps? Nothing happened. I accomplished nothing but bring more agony to the three of us. I just called to tell you how sorry I am  - I never thought this might be something you’d feel. It’s called -”  
“I know how it’s fucking called! The tournament doctor told me. He recognized it right away. ”  
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence after that. Then Andy said. “If you’re trying, it means everything is on the right track, with Mirka. I mean.” He let out a bitter sound. “I can’t tell you I’m happy for you, but it’s what you wanted. I want to tell you that I hope the pain caused no long-term damage to your attempts, but I’d be lying.”  
“Nothing is good.” Roger confessed in a broken voice. “Nothing’s right. I’m trying, but it’s all fucked up so much.”  
“I dream about you every night.” Andy said, his voice tight and trembling. “I miss you every second of every day. I know I shouldn’t tell you that but you fucking called me.”  
“I shouldn’t have. Sev told me not to.” Roger wiped the tears with the heel of his hand.  
“That’s right, you shouldn’t have.” He said through gritted teeth. “Get out of my head. Roger. Get out of my heart. I can’t wake up every morning like that, alone in my bed, when just a few moments ago my mind told me I was in bed with you.”  
Roger closed his eyes and let the tears roll. “Maybe I should tell you the same thing.” He whispered. “These dreams won’t leave me be.”  
Andy took a deep breath. “This morning?”  
“Yes.”  
Andy paused. “Were we on a beach, by any chance?”  
"Yeah.”  
“Fuck.”  
“Not quite, right??  
Andy guffawed, then his laughter died. “Roger, what are we going to do?”  
“I don’t know.” Roger sighed. “Give it time, I guess.”  
“Time.” Andy snorted. “Do you think that’s going to be enough? I mean, did anything happen in the last week to make you think the passage of time will make it better? Personally, I don’t think so.”    
There was nothing Roger could say to that. “I don’t know. I mis - ” He stopped. “Look, I won’t - I’ll be more careful, next time - “   
“Please stop talking.”  
“Okay.”  
“I’m going to hang up, and try to eat this burger before it grows cold.”  
“Okay.”  
“You’re playing Halle, not Queens, right?”  
“Like every year.” "  
Good. I don’t want you to hear from you until Wimbledon, where we have no choice. Rog. It’s not constructive."  
“No, it’s not.”  
“Unless you’re calling to tell me you’ve change your mind, I mean.”  
Roger balled his hand into a fist, and banged on the wall softly, when he really wanted to punch his fist through it. “Andy don’t. Please, I’m begging you.”  
“I don’t know what to do about the dreams, though.” Andy continued, his voice broken and manic, and higher than normal. “I mean, do I want them to stop? Do I really want to stop the feeling of my cum in your mouth, like this morning? Even if it’s fake, even if it’s in my mind.”  
“Don’t, please.”  
“Why, am I making you hard? Did you come this morning, Rog?”  
“No.” Roger let out a sob. “I couldn’t.”  
“You were hard though, right. You woke up with your balls full, all from the images of your dreams, but couldn’t quite get there? And afterwards, it was coitus interruptus, right? So no orgasm. I bet I could get you there just on the sound of my voice. You won’t even have to touch yourself.”  
Roger moaned. “Jesus Andy, stop this.”  
"you can hang up anytime or you could listen to me, talking how good that felt, to tug on your hair while you swallowed me whole. You remember that, right? You were there with me on that beach. We we both there, it wasn’t a normal dream. It was some kind of freaky bond dream. I didn’t know you can give head so fucking, fucking well. We never actually tried that.”  
He shoved his hands in his pants, jerking hard and rough as he spoke, listening to Roger’s harsh breaths on the other side. “I would have totally blown you if we haven’t woken up, how do you like it? bet you like it rough, lots of suction, maybe some teeth, um? With my finger in you and I’d suck you so deep, you’d ram my throat - “  
On the other side, Roger groaned, and came in biting pulses in his boxer shorts, his hands gripping the edges of the sink. Not even touching himself.  
Andy closed his eyes and rubbed hard, the sounds Roger made turning him on unbelievably,  “Oh-Fuck. Fuck. Fu-ck.” He groaned, coming in his pants and all over his hand. “I’ll get arrested for indecent exposure. ”  
Roger let out a sob of a sound. “Go-d. Why did you do that. Why did you d-” He inhaled loudly, and hung up, leaving Andy stunned and dazed on the other side of the world.  
He was in the bathroom. Mirka was in the other room, just meters away. His boxers were wet and sticky. He took them off, and threw them into the laundry bag, then dragged himself into the shower. His knees were shaky and unsteady, and he sat down on the floor. There was a gaping hole where his heart was. He brought his head to his knees, and closed his eyes. Letting the water run, letting them wash away the signs of his infidelity, because no heat was going to excuse this.

 

 

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Mirka frowned as she watched Roger practice with Severin. Sev was a great coach, and good for a light hit and warm up, but his career high was 600 or so, and that was 20 years ago. He wasn't up for any sort of serious hitting practice, the kind Roger needed. Roger needed a fellow pro for that, or a good junior, preferably two.

However, Roger refused to have anyone around he wasn’t super comfortable with, so Sev played a double role of both a coach and a training partner, which wasn’t ideal, and was pretty physically exhausting for him, as well.

And yet, even against such mediocre competition, Roger struggled. It was a practice set they were playing, Roger was 4-2 up, but any other day it would have been 6-0 under 15 minutes, if Roger meant business. He meant business this time, just struggled to execute, trying to dominate and spraying balls instead.

Grumpy, he kicked the grass and talked to himself. When Severin held the previous game, he almost broke the racquet before catching himself, and held his racquet up to his coach and friend in apology, because it’s been fucking years since Severin took as much as a game from him, and being an ass about it wasn’t cool.

He improved slightly every day, but it wasn’t enough, not with Halle in two days time.

“He’s seriously late on his shots.” She told Pierre as Roger made another wild backhand shank and let out a growl of frustration. “I had a better forehand than Severin when I was on tour, and my best shot was the backhand." That was a lie, obviously, but really, this shouldn't be happening. "He shouldn’t be getting there late to hit the third shot.”

Pierre nodded and tsked. “He’s missing kick in his legs, he’s a half second late.”  
“Pierre,” She almost rolled her eyes. “That half second been gone for two years, that’s another extra second missing, if I can see it so can you.”  
He sighed, then nodded. “I am worried. Physically, to say he’s subpar is an understatement. He’s doing the right things, but he’s not getting back the weight and the muscle tone he lost, is he eating at all? Because he has a diet he’s suppose to follow, but his weight is at least 6 kilograms too low.”  
“Not so much, no.”  
He glanced at her, then looked forward, as if he was going to say something but didn’t.   
“What?” She asked him, impatient, because she didn’t have much patience for Pierre’s new habit of censoring himself around her.  
He sighed. “Did you know that I wanted him to go get checked out by a Foedus Doctor? He refused to go. I think this is a mistake. Maybe you can convince him.”  
Her eyes opened wide, because no, she hasn’t heard, because he hasn’t told her. “What, a specialist on Bonds?”  
Pierre nodded. “Mir, can I speak frankly?”  
"You know you can."

“Bonds are not just an emotional thing, it’s tied to our biology, the Alphas and the Omegas. An unfulfilled bond can take a physical toll. Roger has two bonds,and he chose one over the other - but he chose  - “

Her face curdled as she completed the sentence for him. “The wrong choice?”  
“The weaker bond, Mirka.” He said softly, not looking away from her flinch. “And he can’t really work on strengthening it, because the other bond won’t let him. That’s not a healthy situation. There’s maybe a solution, or a way to ease the symptoms that I’m not aware of. Because he’s suffering, I’m pretty sure you all are.” He glanced at her. “Are you sleeping together?” At her expression, he quickly corrected himself. “In the same bed, I mean - what I mean is - do you know if he’s sleeping?”  
She shook her head. “He sometimes just roams the apartment when he thinks I’m asleep, He'll watch TV late at night. You know Roger, he never stays up late normally. He comes back to bed when he can't keep his eyes open anymore.” She wiped a tear away. “Yeah, we’re sleeping in the same bed, not that it matters, not when I know what’s eating away at him, not that you care.”  
Pierre blinked, and touched her shoulder, which she shrugged away. “Don’t. Not once did you ask me how I feel, how I am dealing with it.”  
He looked at her with surprise. “Mirka.” He exclaimed softly, “Believe me that all I want is for you two to be happy again, I can see in Roger that you both are trying, and I’m glad for it.” He squeezed her shoulder. “I know it a difficult for you. I’m an Omega who chose to live with a woman, I’m not blind to the difficulties.”  
She leaned back a little. “Only we had none before I made the biggest mistake of my life. He would have opted for the emergency suppressants and a ban if I asked him too, but it never even crossed my mind. I’m an idiot.”  

She gave the older man a pointed look. “You were with a man, before Gabrielle. He was an alpha, right? Roger told me that he was. And you got over it, so - why can’t Roger? - why the hell can’t he?” Her voice went down to a choked whisper.  
Pierre looked at her and paused before he continued. “It was not the same. Bernard -“ Pierre closed his eyes, “Ours was not a good relationship, Oui? By the time I left, and met Gabrielle, there was no bond anymore, only hate. He destroyed it with his actions, there’s only so much a man can put up wi-” He stopped himself, and swallowed, then continued, his voice composed. “With you and Roger - the relationship was good, yes, but you both neglected your bond, you skipped heats and - a heat with a male alpha will always be different for an Omega.”  
“By different you mean better.”

“By different I mean overwhelming to a degree a heat with a female alpha simply is not.”  
“Do you miss it?”  
“Hardly ever most times.” Pierre said evenly. “But if you’re asking me if I am immune to it? Of course not. This is why I won’t risk experimenting with it again. Not if I value my relationship.” He closed his eyes. “How I wish you talked to -” He stopped talking. “Never mind, I won’t make you feel worse. You tried to do the right thing, I wish it hadn’t went so wrong, that’s all.”  
“It’s not just the heat.” She said dully. “With Roger and Andy. We both know this. You can’t force a bond on someone who isn’t receptive to one. He gets this look, when he thinks I’m not paying attention, I don’t know where he is but he’s not with me.”  
“Mirka. You can’t blame him for this. It’s hard to go against your own body’s biology. He loves you.”  
She swallowed. “Yes, he does. I just - I just don’t  know if that’s enough. I don’t know if he’s in love with Andy, but their souls are bound with each other, and he can’t forget it. He can’t let go.”  
“You need to give him time to get over that. You have to.”

“Do you believe that he even can?” She gestured with her head toward the court, “You’re the one who thinks he needs a doctor, so obviously you believe time alone isn’t going to be enough. He can’t even bring himself to touch me.”  
Pierre’s eyes locked on Roger, who was hitting with his back to them, and bowed his head at that. “I thought - I thought he would feel better by now. But frankly Mirka, my first responsibility is to find out whether he should even play tennis right now.“  
He stopped speaking as Roger snapped his racquet in two on his knee and walked over to them, chucking the abused stick bag on his bag, not even pausing at the net.   
 He stopped when he realized they were in a serious discussion, and his eyes fixed on Pierre. His face tightened. “We talked about this, no? Just last week, or did I imagine things? Stop acting as my marriage counselor!”   
His voice carried a rare anger. Roger rarely raised his voice, and being upset with Pierre was almost unheard of.

The older Frenchmen flushed guiltily, and Mirka raised her eyebrows at Roger, and sighed. “Oh Roger, for God’s sake. We’re talking about your health and form. That’s off limits too?”

Roger looked edgily between the two. “Yeah? What’s the verdict then? Other than I’m a total and utter shit?”  
“You’re a bit slow.” She said softly. “especially when you defend your backhand and go back to the forehand, and - your shots lack pace.” She looked at him, and then put her hand on his chest,and tugged lightly on his shirt. “You’re hitting for what, an hour? You’re sweating like crazy. That’s not normal for you.”  
“Nothing’s normal.” He grumbled. He looked up at Severin who joined them after picking up the balls and moved a hand over his face, suddenly embarrassed at his childish behavior. “Shit.” He tried to smile at his long-time coach. “I’m being a jerk, you got me there with the drop shot.”   
Severin shrugged. “You still won, obviously. But Roger - this wasn’t good. I don’t have to tell you that. Your shots are fine, but your movement and speed are seriously compromised. Whatever we’re doing now to get you fit isn’t working, you were gasping for air there.”

Roger sat down on the bench. “Yeah. I know.” He sighed. “I’m open for suggestions.”  
“Are you?” Pierre asked, his expression grave. “I don’t think that’s true. Or you would go to that doctor.”  
Roger’s expression was one of utter distaste.   
Pierre’s voice was soft. “Roger, goddammit. It’s been three weeks, and you’re - you have to go. I can no longer take responsibility to your health. I’m not a doctor, and other than my own experience and knowledge as an Omega, I’m hardly an expert on bond issues, I am very worried about you.”

Roger looked at the three of them. “That’s what the discussion was about? Going to a doctor? For what, to tell me what I already know, that I have a bond with Andy? That I have post-heat syndrome? You all took great pains in explaining that to me. These guys are a cross between a shrink and a witch doctor!”  
“They aren’t witch doctors.” Pierre stressed. “They have a bad reputation because bonds are seen as an emotional issue. They are, but it’s not just emotional, they have a very real physical manifestation, they’re tied to our biology. I don’t see how talking to someone would hurt, and I want to know why you’re so physically down. Maybe it’s not even related to the bond, maybe there’s something else going on that we’re missing. You haven’t seen a doctor once, not once, Roger. You didn’t see as much as your family doctor. It’s not like you to be so casual about your health.”  
Roger’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said this - exhaustion was normal post heat, all things considered.”

“I'm changing my mind. What’s going on with you isn’t like anything I’ve seen post-heat. Those last a couple of days, you're three weeks after your heat and you look a mess." He straightened in his seat and looked right at Roger. "Go get checked out tomorrow, or else I’m going back home.”  
Roger’s eyebrow shot up. “You’re WHAT?”  
“You heard me.” Pierre’s voice was sharp enough to cut. “Either you listen to my advice and go get checked up, or find someone else to help you train for Wimbledon. I’m all for you playing, but I want you to get checked out by someone with knowledge of your condition. If the doctor tells you you can play, we can resume training, but you’re just not improving physically in the rate I had hoped for.”

At the shock on Roger’s face, his voice softened. “When did I ever, in the 15 years I’ve worked with you, issued you an ultimatum? I mean this. I’m only saying so out of my love and concern for you. You know this.”  
Roger’s lips tightened, he got up and walked away, furious. Mirka got up after him.

Severin looked after him in shock. “What the hell? I’ve never seen him reacting like that.”

Pierre rubbed his face. “He’s scared.”

“Of what?!”  
“Take your pick. Being told he shouldn’t play? Talking about his emotional state with anyone? Potentially being told that it is possible to break his bond with Andy, and the fact that I don’t think he really wants that? He’s a mess. As I said, I’m very worried.”

He rubbed his face. “There is something else. Tony called last night. You know Roger won’t talk to him?”

“That’s his own damn fault.” Severin grimaced.  “He reacted to the whole thing like an idiot. I didn’t take him to be so prejudice about Omegas.”  
“I don’t think that he is. He just had a shock. We all knew for a long time, he didn’t. He wants to talk to him, but Roger’s having none of that.”  
Severin frowned. “Rog’s going to have to deal with negative reactions if he wants to play on tour. He’s bound to get them.”

“That’s another reason why I am on the fence about Halle. I don’t know if he’s ready.”  
Severin winced. “What, and come back to Wimbledon is better? With so many players around, including players from countries that won’t even let Omegas play sports for a national team?!  With the pressure of a Slam, the media - fuck - and Andy around?! If he’s coming back at all for this grass season, Halle is better. It’s smaller, it’s a german-speaking event. He has friends there. The tournament director is a Beta.”

Pierre nodded, burying his face in his hands. Severin nudged him. “So, why did Tony call?”  
Pierre did not lift his head from his hands. “Rolex decided not to renew the Contract. They will complete this contract - which is due this year, but no renewal afterwards. It’s a very old-fashioned company. Tony couldn’t convince them otherwise.”  
Severin shook his head in distaste. “I don’t believe that. And Roger doesn’t know yet?”  
“No. I didn’t know how to tell him. I haven’t told Mirka either. This can wait. There’s a mutual agreement Rolex won’t go public with that.”  
Severin looked at thin man, and squeezed Pierre’s shoulder. “Hi Pierre.”  
Pierre did not look up. “What.”

“I can only deal with so much angst. This isn’t just Roger, what’s going on with you?”  
“I had -  a conversation with Mirka that brought up a lot of - difficult memories.“ He gave Sev a bland look through his glasses. “Roger and Mirka are not coming back. I’m hungry, join me?”   
Severin smiled a thin smile. “Nice way of changing the subject. Pierre, what’s wrong?”  
Pierre started as he looked at his friend.. “I - you don’t want to hear this.”  
Severin looked at him levelly. “It’s not like you to be so stupid.”  
Pierre smiled ruefully, leaned back on the bench, looking up to the sky, in thought. “Alright. When I was younger, in my twenties, I was attracted to the rougher side of the powerplay in the male-to-male dynamic. Being dominated, I liked that. Even when I wasn’t in heat.”  
He glanced at Severin to judge his reaction, but the Swiss looked right back at him, his eyes calm and non-judgemental, so he coughed a little and continued. ”II met an older alpha who who liked that specific dynamic a lot. I was young and foolish enough to believe he was in love with me. But all he was interested in was the sexual play, that got more and more - aggressive - as time went by. He took it too far, he was controlling and violent. He played mind games. He bonded with me, but he kept ruining the bond, then rebuilding it.” His hand clenched into a fist. “I was - I probably went into heat five times a year.” At Severin’s stunned eyes, he looked away. “He fed me heat inducers, which aren’t safe or healthy, but not unheard of in an Omega-alpha sexual play, especially in the past. He claimed it would strengthen our bond, but it was his way of keeping me leashed to him even though he was abusive toward me. After a while I hated him, but it’s hard to think straight when you’re in heat or recovering from a heat most of the time.”  
He closed his eyes. “I got out just barely, when I got my first real tennis job. It kept me traveling around the world on the ITF dime and he couldn’t, financially, track me there. Then I immersed myself in tennis, got on suppressants, and just never came back.” The tightness in his lungs told him he hadn’t inhaled yet, so he did, and was surprised to find some wet there.

Severin’s eyes were on him, waiting for him to get himself together. “I was alone for a long time. When I met Gabi I didn’t think I’ll want anything to do with anyone ever again. Man or Woman. Alpha or otherwise. I thought that being celibate all my life sounded pretty good. To discover that I was attracted to her surprised me, because It thought I didn’t like women at all.”  
“I thought all Omegas are bisexual.”

Pierre smiled. “It’s a common phrase, and it’s true, but many have a dominant preference when not in heat. I always assumed I was more attracted to man, to the male on male dynamic.   
That changed when I met Gabi, but it wasn’t an -  easy adjustment, during heats especially. It took us - me, a long time to overcome my past. Not only to put what - he -  had done behind me, but to get used to sharing heats with a woman. I struggled even without a viable bond, only the remains of a bond I worked very hard to break myself. My body remembered, you see.”  
Severin’s eyes were soft. “How come I’m only hearing about this?”  
Pierre shrugged. “It was many years ago. Long before we met each other. It wasn’t a part of my life for a long time, but what’s happening with Roger - ” He shook his head and let his voice drift.  
“Brought it up again for you.” Severin concluded.  
Pierre gave a slight nod, and Severin frowned at him. “Just please explain the connection to me.”  
Pierre sighed. “My bond with Bernard was ruined, and I still struggled when I tried to make love with Gabi for the first time. The transition from male to female is always harder. In heats it was even more difficult, my body didn’t react like it should. Not dissimilarly to what happened to Roger with Mirka just now during his heat.”  
Severin frowned. “But - it worked for you. Eventually, Why don’t you think it won’t work for Roger? He’s married to Mirka, and he loves her. They have a history together, their relationship is good and -   
“He has a viable bond with Andy!” Pierre stressed.  “And it’s *strong*, I can tell it’s strong. You just have to look at him to see that. Neglected bonds fade with time,  and bonds can be ruined, but we all know that there are stories of Omega whose spouse died and never managed to get over the bond, never managed to bond with another”.  
Alarmed, Severin waved him off. “It’s a new bond, Pierre. How strong can it be?”  
Pierre did that nervous twitch, when he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Sometimes a new bond is powerful. It just have to do with the dynamic and chemistry between two people  Especially an alpha and an Omega. Roger looks like he’s wasting away.”  
“He loves Mirka. I know he does. He barely knows Andy, not like that.” Severin frowned. “You know, if this was Haas, then yeah - I mean, if there is anyone in the world I thought Roger would be vulnerable to - it’s Tommy. Roddick? During a heat - fine. After that - I just don’t get it.”  
“That’s because you haven’t seen him after.” Pierre murmured. “They were smart about Tommy, Mirka was smart about Tommy, she realized there are strong feelings of friendship there, she would have never approached him. Sara would have said a flat out no. But it would have been better if it was Tommy. Outside of a heat, he’s straight and his bond with Sara is strong and solid, God knows he never misses a heat. He wouldn’t have bitten him - ” His thoughts moved back to the other night and Tommy’s possessiveness toward Roger.”I think. But what happened with Andy they didn’t see coming.  A bond cannot be created when there aren’t feelings there to build on, and his biology works against him. He’s known and liked Andy for a long time.” Pierre rubbed his forehead. “What were his feelings for Andy two months ago, I don’t know. But something was there, something the bond latched on to. Something that refuels it.”  
Severin sighed. “I don’t know. I - I  don’t know. Pierre. I’m just fucking grateful to be a Beta, looking at this -  mess.” He shook his head. “At the end, it’s his issue to resolve, don’t take it out on yourself.”  

Pierre’s head was bowed. “I should have told him, I should have -”  
“Enough.” Severin basically growled. “He will have to figure it out for himself. Stop with the self-blame.” At Pierre’s miserable expression, his voice softened. “Come to eat something with me. I worked hard on court today. Being Roger’s hitting partner is hard work, even if he’s not playing well. I deserve a break.”  
Pierre grinned suddenly at the Swiss. “You did work hard, had some beautiful points there.”  
Severin snorted. “Which is just proof of how crappy Roger was, right? Honestly, I’m coaching him, it shouldn’t please me like that.”  
Pierre smirked. “He wouldn’t have reached that dropper there even on a good day.”  
“He really wouldn’t, right? 

\----

Mirka touched Roger’s shoulder as he raised his head from the water fountain.”You okay?”  
He shook his head, then turned to her. “No. I don’t even recognize myself. I was a nasty shit to Sev all practice long. I didn't even shake his hand when the set was over. I chewed Pierre out for nothing.I don’t like myself that way. At all.”  
She gestured with her head. “Come sit for a second. Come on.”  
Reluctantly, he let her lead him to a nearby bench. The minute he sat down, he was hit with exhaustion. He leaned his forehead on her shoulder and closed his eyes. “I’m tired of feeling this way.”

Mirka put her hand in his hair, removing his Bandana. Roger sighed softly “What are you thinking?” he asked her, his head still bowed against her shoulder.  
She toyed with a moist strand of hair, twirling it on her finger. “That this is the first time you touched me in any way since that night.”  
“I didn’t think you’d want me to touch you.” He said softly, because that’s what it came down to.

She smiled a small, sad smile. “The last time I tried, I caused you pain. This isn’t an experience I care to repeat. It didn’t feel too great for me either.”  
“I guess not.” He said, his voice low.

“Do you think there would be a different result if we tried again?” She asked, even though she knew the answer even before Roger shook his head mutely no.  
“Right.” She said, bitterness lacing her voice. “I bet that if I touched you, really touched you, it would only took two seconds for that fucking bond to kick into second gear.”  
Roger raised his head, because swearing wasn’t really something she did.

“I just don’t want to put us through this again.”  
“What you really don’t want to do is to do that to Andy again, either. And you don’t like excruciating pain, either.”  
“No.” He said quietly. “I don’t want any of that. I never wanted any of that, I never wished for it. It’s the last thing I ever wanted, we were happy. It’s not like I ever longed secretly for anything else. You have to know that.”

“But you do now.” It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t wait for a response. ”It isn’t fading, is it? This bond you have with Andy. This - It was never like that with us. Even that first year, right after we first bonded. When we were both still playing on tour and spent time apart, you handled that just fine. You weren’t falling apart when I wasn’t around.”  
Roger snorted in disgust. “Come on, that’s not true. I was a mess without you. I was miserable. I missed you like crazy.” His eyes were on hers as his fingers traced her face. “Tell me you know this.”  
She smiled at him, her smile quivering at the edges. “I remember, but it wasn’t like this. You’re pining, that’s what you’re doing, for Andy. Like you never did for me. Never, not once, not like that. You didn’t waste away into nothing when I wasn’t there.”  
He lowered his head to her shoulder. “I’m pining for the both of you, that’s the truth, believe it or not. I miss you too. I miss you like crazy, I miss us.”    
“That’s worse, Roger. It’s so much worse, because I’m right here. I am RIGHT HERE. But it isn’t enough.”  
He lifted his head, his eyes were red. “I can’t control this. Can you just put up with me for a while? While I work through this?”  
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. “How much time? Weeks? Obviously not. Months? Years? Until your next heat? And when you see Andy again at Wimbledon? Isn’t it only going to be worse?”

Roger bowed his head, burying his face in his hands. “I-”  
She gritted her teeth. “Just don’t say ‘I don’t know’. Don’t say it. I can’t hear it anymore, Roger.”  
He lifted his head. His eyes were angry and haunted. “Well, I really *don’t* know, so what do you want me to say, Mir?! To promise you things I can’t keep? I’m doing my best. I can’t - ” His hands balled into fists. “We can’t keep on about it every day. It’s not getting us anywhere. It’s just tearing us up.” He wiped at his face. “This is your way of giving up on me, I can tell.”

Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer. “I’m not giving up on you, and I’m not giving you up.” She whispered against his lips. “Forget about it, Federer. I won’t make your life that easy.”  
He nodded slowly, a tremor running through him as their lips touched, followed by a twinge of pain, because the bond felt another’s claim and protested wildly, but his fingers sank into the callous palm of his hand, and he did not even blink, because no way could he do that to them, not again.

She stopped just short of deepening the kiss. “It’s hurting you.”  
Roger didn’t reply, but also didn’t pull back from her, because he could never truly resist her, when she put her mind to something. He pulled her into his arms, clutching at her. “Mir.” He said.”Thanks. Without you I  am lost.”  
She pulled back to look to look at him, caressing his face.“How about you take me out to lunch, then? Someplace nice?”

He grinned sheepishly. “Are you implying that I haven’t taken you anywhere nice lately?”

Her expression turned serious. “I think you didn’t want to be around people. Are you ever going to talk to Tony? And Hewitt called me the other day, you wouldn’t talk to him, either.You’re going to have to face all those people sooner or later.” At his bowed head she grabbed his hand. “Roger, you didn’t do anything wrong.”  
“Yeah? Other than being stupid and careless and hurting you -  I lied about who I am. I’m suppose to be a role-model. There are probably hundreds of Omega kids out there playing sports, thinking ‘well, if Roger Federer is ashamed of being Omega, I shouldn’t tell anyone, either. I  should hide it like he did.”  
She caressed his cheek. “You made the choice you thought was right for you at the time, Rogi. Who knows what would have happened had you told the truth when you first turned pro.”  
He shook his head. “Mir..come on, lets be honest with ourselves, I could have come out about it years ago. When I started winning Slams, when I made a name for myself. I was a coward. I could have worked to improve things for Omegas in tennis and in sports in general, but I chose not to. It was just easier to let people just assume I was a Beta.”  
“It’s not too late, but you need to face this, Roger. Whether you’ll play Halle or not, you’re going to have to start thinking of what you’re going to say at your first press conference. People are waiting to hear from you. I get calls from reporters every day. The longer you wait, more people would assume you are ashamed. Don’t let anyone think that. People will react positively if you show you are confident and unashamed about what and who you are. That you’re the same person they know.”

At the uncertainty in his eyes, she frowned. “Roger?”

Roger chewed on his bottom lip. “Am I the same person? I’m not sure, I don’t feel like me. I don’t feel confident, not about my game, not about anything. I don’t feel like myself, and I1 know I’m not acting like myself, I don’t particularly like myself, either.” He wiped at his face and shrugged tiredly. “Lets just - go out to lunch, okay?”

“No, not okay.” She frowned at him. “I don’t care about the nice place, I care about seeing you returning to normal. Is this - are you feeling like this - “She closed her eyes in pain. "This is about Andy.”  
Roger looked away from her, flushed underneath the pallor of his face. “I wish I could feel differently.” He whispered.

“Yeah.” She mumbled. “Me too. Maybe - “ She hesitated. “Go see that doctor tomorrow?  Just to hear what he has to say, Roger. Anything going to be better than this.”

“Yeah.”  Roger sighed. “Maybe. Maybe I should. Maybe he has some magic pill.” He looked at her. "What if he tells me something I  don't want to hear?"


	9. Chapter 9

Roger woke up around 4 AM, trembling violently, on the verge of orgasm, and squeezed his thighs together, choking on a gasp. It didn’t help. He bit his lip hard and came in his sweats. One pulsing spasm after another as he jerked his hips across the mattress hard.

He lied on his stomach, wrecked, and dare not move. Mirka was asleep, curled on the other side of their bed. He laid there, gasping for air.

It wasn’t stopping, the dreams. This time Andy was fucking him into the mattress, wonderfully rough and insistent as Roger ground his hips against the mattress. Andy’s face was buried in his neck, and he was whispering stuff Roger couldn’t remember, but made his groin pulse and thrum.   
He shuddered, rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. His boxers were soaked. He put the dirty clothes in the laundry, and went straight into the shower, getting the water as cold as possible. “Shit.” He mumbled, balling his hand into a fist. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He couldn’t keep doing that.

\------

  
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice, Dr. Davis.” Roger rose to shake the man’s hand.  
Dr Davis was an older, a rather handsome guy in his forties, was probably the best doctor in Switzerland for caste related issues, maybe in Europe. He was also booked in advance for a year or so, unless you were Roger Federer.

His name got in an appointment for the same day in about three seconds, and he didn’t care. It was after normal office hours, and he was paying twice the rate, which was steep as it is.

He went alone, Mirka hasn’t offered to come with him, and he was grateful for that.

  
Dr. Davis sat down in front of Roger, his eyes twinkling slightly. “Lets just say I found a time slot available.” His eyes narrowed. “Before we start, If you don’t mind, how should I call you?”  
Roger’s mouth quirked up slightly. “Um. Roger? Like everyone in the world? The only time I hear “Mr. Federer.” is during Wimbledon.”

Doctor Davis nodded. “Given the nature of what I do and the things we will probably discuss, I find that using first names is better. If you want to call me Luca, that’s fine, too.” He spread his hands. “So, Roger. Do you want to tell me why you’re here?”  
Roger’s mouth curved bitterly. “Haven’t you heard on the news?”  
“I heard some things on the news. But I’m not an avid reader of the Blink. I rather hear it from my patient.”  
Roger coughed, embarrassed. “I’m an Omega, as you probably heard. I forget my pills while on tour. My wife - she wasn’t there, the one time she wasn’t there I fucked up-“ He closed his eyes and tried to compose himself. “We - I didn’t know what to do. I woke up in heat spasms already. I missed it, I thought I had a flu or maybe slight fever, I didn’t get what was happening until I was deep into it, almost..”  
Dr. Davis nodded. “That happens, Roger. You’re not the first Omega to be stranded without his spouse or significant other and going on heat. Some brands of pills would stop working on a particular Omega so a change of brand is needed, certain types of recreational drugs render the pills ineffective, and there are some Omegas that cannot take the pills at all, same way some alphas reject suppressants, especially emergency suppressants.”  
Roger waved him off with an angry hand. “But it wasn’t like that, the pills didn’t stop working, they worked great, until I forgot to take them.” He buried his face in his hands. “God, how could I fuck it up so much. How.” He choked on the lump in his throat, because wallowing felt terrible.  
The doctor gave him a moment, then continued, his voice even. “Tell me what happened.”

Roger swallowed and looked up, his eyes red. “Do you follow tennis at all, or do I have - I mean, I don’t know how much background and such I should give you.”  
The man smiled. “I play every weekend. My serve is okay when not crippled by shoulder tendonitis. I’m trying to switch to a two-handed backhand but I’m failing, because I’m old. I’ve been to a fair share of the matches you’ve played in Basel and I have been known to watch a Wimbledon Final or two in my life, because I love tennis, because I need something to spend the outrageous fees my patients are paying me. I hope that’s alright. Our conversations are discreet, and you’re not the first celebrity Omega to sit in this office.”  
Roger grinned slightly, recognizing the justice in that.

At Roger’s hesitant expression his expression changed. “I hope that is alright. Our conversations are discreet, and you’re not the first high profile name who sat in this office.”  
“It is alright.” Roger’s expression was serious. “It’s just - easier to explain this way.”  
He took a deep breath. “I asked - well, Mirka did, she asked Andy Roddick to help me through my heat.” His face curdled. “I couldn’t take emergency heat suppressants, it’s a banned substance on tour.”  
“Why him? There are many alphas, male and females on the tour.”  
Roger shrugged. “I’ve known him for a long time, he was in the tournament, he wasn’t involved with anyone, a lot of the other alphas I can trust are otherwise involved - I - I liked him. I guess - he just seemed like a sensible option to choose. Not many people know - or knew, that I’m an Omega. I thought I could trust him to keep it a secret.” He looked away. “Not that it matters now.””

Dr Davis tapped with his pen lightly on the table, in thought. “You were in heat, from what you tell me, quite a few hours into the heat. That’s a lot to consider during a heat. Logic doesn’t quite work in those instances. Omega in heat usually follows his instincts and impulses.”

Roger flushed and admitted. “Actually -  by the time Mirka suggested his name - I was burning with it. I was - not that coherent. I just - I mean, she thought of someone else, first, but it felt wrong. When she said Andy’ name I - It -I mean there wasn’t much thought process in it on my part, but Intuitively It felt - ” He bit his lip. “Right.” His eyes closed. “Like it was going to be okay. Like I was going to be okay.”  
Dr. Davis considered. “Tell me about it. How the heat went..”  
Roger flushed beet red. “How was it? It was a heat, I’m sure you can fill in the gaps.”

The doctor studied him.. “Not all heats are a positive experience. An Omega can mate during a heat and find it a terrible violation, if he’s with an alpha he doesn’t want, but still cannot resist nature’s call. But that wasn’t the case with you and Andy, was it?”  
Roger looked down.“I’ve never been with a man, before.” He mumbled. He knew enough by now to know this information was essential. “So I don’t have a sound basis for comparison. But - the - the sex? No, it wasn’t a negative experience.” He stared at his own shoe-laces. He did it a lot, these days. “Not at all. Just the guilt that came with it.”  
The sympathetic smile was back. “First time with a man. It’s a bit different, isn’t it? To share a heat with a male alpha.”  
“Like the whole earth moved off it’s orbit.” He blurted out. “I - never felt anything like that - it was - intense.” He shuddered.”Even now I can’t think about it without -” He buried his face in his hands. “Can you just - tell me what to do to make it go away. Those feelings I have. Those - cravings?! It’s ruining my marriage and my life. I can’t do this anymore.” He was almost hyperventilating, and he looked away, because he was mortified.  
Dr. Davis got up, and handed Roger a glass of water, which he eagerly took. He waited till Roger’s eyes rose to meet his, then he raised his hand. ‘Lets go back a little, can we do that?”  
Roger nodded and tried to pull himself together.  
“During the heat, was there a bite?”  
“Yes.”  
“More then one?”  
“Yes.”

“Did he knot you?”  
Roger flushed, but frowned. “Yes, obviously. Almost every time. I mean, a male Alpha and a male Omega, knotting is part of the deal.”

The doctor shrugged. “An Alpha of a certain experience can withhold a knot, it allows alphas to assist an Omega during a while while avoiding the complications of a bond. And some Omegas have particular difficulties taking a knot. But for an inexperienced alpha, it is quite difficult to achieve.  More difficult than withholding an orgasm in a none-heat situation. It takes an incredible amount of control.”

There was a pause. The doctor gave him a long look over his glasses.. “You must know by now you’ve bonded with Mr Roddick. That’s what you are feeling. First time with a male alpha, several bites. Knotting. A willing shared heat. All those things usually mean a bond would be formed.”

“I know it’s a bond! I had a bond with Mirka, too. But not like that. It never felt like *that*. This is more like a pull. It’s like someone hooked a line into my heart and is tugging at me to go - “ Roger took a gulping breath. “To go to him. I cannot do this. It’s taking over my life, I can’t function, I can’t eat. I can’t sleep, I have these dreams about him. I don’t know how much more of that I can take.”   
The doctor’s voice was gentle. “Can you talk a little to me about your wife.”  
Roger said nothing for a long moment, then looked up. “What do you want to know?”  
“Whatever you have to tell me.” He smiled. “Whatever you think is important.”

Roger sighed. “How do you squeeze over 10 years into a sentence or two? I love her, she loves me. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

The doctor made a none-committed sound. “It’s a good start, in theory. Not necessarily enough where bonds and castes are concerned. When was the last time you two had sex prior to your heat with Andy?”  
Roger blinked at him. “Um. I don’t know. I don’t mark it on a little black notebook. I guess maybe a week, 10 days before my heat? I mean, I would definitely say our sex lives are - normal, you know. Even more than. But we’ve been together for a long time.”  
“What about heats?”  
Roger closed his eyes. “Two years. A little over that.”

A tilt of the head. “Why so long? Usually, while Omegas find heats a bit of a hassle, it’s also something that they relish, especially if they have an Alpha partner.”  
“Because it knocks me off my training for weeks.’ Roger smiled a grim smile. “And it screws up my diet. And we do what’s good for my tennis. That’s the guidance point, and I had a busy off-season last year.” He moved a shaky hand over his face and ducked his head. “I had to play catch up with my training anyway, due to injury issues. Not enough time to do that and go through a proper heat. Something had to go from the schedule, and I just thought - that one year, it won’t be so bad. We skipped it before when I got busy. So i just continued taking my pills. There wasn’t this big discussion about it. It was obvious that heat was something we couldn’t do it that year, so we just didn’t.”

Dr. Davis scratched his beard in thought, and Roger’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”  
“I’m thinking we should go look at your bonds before we can get to the difficult questions..”  
Roger stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Those weren’t the difficult questions? And what do you mean, lets go look at the bonds? How do you suggest we do that?”  
“It’s a rather recent development. Basically, I want to see the state of your emotional and biological connections.”  
Astounded, Roger followed him out of the main office and into a nearby room, with something that looked like an ultrasound machine. “If you could sit, and take off your shirt?”

Roger, reluctantly, complied. “I’m sitting. What - what are you going to do?”

“It’s not a painful procedure at all.. It’s similar to an Xray machine which has the ability to visualize a bond, but first I want examine you, is that agreeable?”  
Roger froze. He was a tennis player on tour, he was used to being touched and probed and massaged by others. Taking care of his body took a lot of work, manual work. It was just that he was so sensitive post heat, and particularly now after the heat withdrawal.”  
He closed his eyes in shame. “I - if we don’t have to. I’d just rather not.”

“Increased sensitivity?”  
Roger nodded briskly, not looking up. “Yeah. It’s getting better as time passes, but it’s still very much present.”  
“I’m just going to take your vitals, Roger. Nothing too intrusive.”

Roger paused, then nodded again. He was frozen as his temperature, blood pressure and other tests were taken. When the doctor lowered his stethoscope, he gave Roger a inquisitive look.  
“I have a feeling you could tell me yourself exactly how much you weigh.”  
Roger hesitated. “I could. 78 kg.”  
“You’re 1.85, right? How much do you normally weight?”

“Between 82 kg and 85 kg, depending when in the season. I like to keep it around 83 kg.”  
“How much did you weight the last day of your heat?”

Roger hesitated. “76 kg. I can’t keep much down during a heat, and I didn’t prepare for the heat either.”

“Well, the  weight loss is not unusual. But you only gained two kilograms back. Taking into account the energy you’re spending practicing each day, that’s not enough.”  
Roger shrugged. “I still have zero appetite. It never took me that long to get my appetite back.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I know it’s - psychological. It’s not about the heat anymore.”

The doctor frowned in thought. “Well. You must eat. We will figure out ways to trigger your appetite, alright? Your weight is just too low for your height and physicality and the effort you’re spending on court. Omegas normally pack a little more weight, you are keeping it low for the tennis, I understand that, but you are stressing out your system.”  
Roger, tentatively, nodded, and the doctor smiled. “Excellent, now lets look at the tangled web weaving inside of you, okay?”  
Roger let out a surprised snort of a laughter that put him at ease. He liked that man. He leaned back, and watched the screen with apprehensive eyes as  the doctor moved a detector over his chest. Wincing at the chill of the device.

Then he saw it. On the screen. Clear as daylight. On the left side of his heart, something that looked like a large, loose knot.  One thick cord was purplish in color, loosely entangled with what looked a reddish cord connected to his heart. It was a very complicated knot, and large, with many branches, but so loose. Roger’s eyes flicked to the doctor - “Is that  - that’s my bond with Mirka, isn’t it?”  
The doctor made a sound for the affirmative, and glanced at Roger. “What do you think?  
Roger frowned. “You’re the doctor, you’re asking me?”  
“It’s your bond. Tell me, what do you see, and what do you feel?”  
Roger hesitated. “I think it shouldn’t look like this.” It wasn’t a question. He swallowed. “And I know - that it shouldn’t feel like this, either. It wasn’t like that before.”  
“Hmm. It’s a bond that indicates a very long relationship between two bonded people, but it is also a neglected bond, you can see that in the looseness. While it isn’t a severed bond, per say, you can see that in the back - ”

He tilted the device for a better point of view. Small pieces of the cord seemed unconnected to the main knot, and in the back was a big tear. “There’s a tear or a rupture. That is - quite recent.”

Roger’s voice was weak, a lump was in his throat. “It seems like  - there’s a lot of wear and tear to it, almost. It’s fluffy and - weak looking. But there - it seems like someone just  - tore it apart.”  
He lifted his eyes, his voice trembling.  “That’s me, right? I did that. To my bond with Mirka. When I - when bonded with Andy?”  
The doctor nodded. “Most likely.” He said gently.”The wear and tear, as you call it, and it’s a good name for it, are signs of a neglected bond. It is caused from skipping heats or from - well, dissolvement of the relationship itself. The rupture in the bond is from turning your back on the bond. In other words - bonding with another.”  
“But” Roger asked  softly, still looking at the screen, trying to understand. “Why didn’t it hurt me, when I slept with Andy.  I felt guilty, but normal guilt, you know. Not bond guilt. No pain.”  
“Because the bond was probably weak already, and therefore more elastic.Moreover,you were in heat, and your body was protecting itself, it craved an alpha and ignored the existence of an existing bond to get what it needed from the Alpha in the vicinity, which was Andy”

He stopped speaking to ponder the screen and tilted the screen some more. “And that’s your bond with Andy, right there.”  
Roger looked, and at once wondered how he could have missed it. It was right in the other side of his heart. Two thin cords entangled around each other, his red, Andy’s copper. Both of them looped by a third cord that seemed to be coming from him. Both cords were pulsing, and tight to the point you couldn’t tell where one begun and the other one started. It looked new and thin, but powerful and throbbing. It was mesmerizing. Roger stared at it, transfixed.  
“It -” He gulped. “It looks - beautiful.” He was aching with it.

“Roger.’ Dr Davis started him out of reverie. “Why are you here, today? What would you like to hear?”  
Roger shook his head numbly. “Can - can this be - undone?”  
“Do you want it to?”

“What?” Roger’s brow furrowed. “Of course I do, I love my wife. I never intended for that to happen!”  
“That doesn’t mean you want to see this bond broken.” The doctor said softly. “Though I understand that’s not what you’re asking.” He pondered for a moment. “How are things in your marriage since the end of your heat?”  
Roger closed his eyes. “Not good. She knows everything that goes on with me, she knows me that well. She knows I can’t touch her because I’m in pain because my bond with another man. How can things be good between us? How?!” He inhaled wetly. “She tried - she got back in the middle of my heat, she tried - everything. I  just didn’t - I didn’t react to her like - like Omega oughta respond to an alpha during a heat, especially when she’s his wife.” He finished weakly. “That - that was horrible. I don’t remember that much of it, but I remember how it felt. It’s nothing I’d ever want to repeat.”  
Dr Davis gave Roger a sympathetic look. “That was not an ideal decision, I’m sure you know.”  
Roger shrugged. “I had no control over it, and I can’t blame her for that. I  don’t know what I would have done if things were the other way around.”  
The doctor sighed. “You’ve asked whether a bond can be undone, the simple answer is yes, however - I cannot recommend it for you. There are surgical options to undo a bond, they also involve hypnosis or suggestion. But they are extremely risky. First of all, It will need to be performed on both you and Andy. Secondly, On a bond that fresh and this strong, the risks are substantial, specifically, you might never be able to bond again. Even if you consent to take such a risk, do you believe Mr. Roddick would?”  
Roger stared, then shook his head rapidly. “I can never ask that of him…” He looked away. “Even if I wanted to take the risk, and I don’t think I do.”   
“I usually perform those surgeries with a court order. Sometimes, after an abusive relationship, enough of a bond remains that needs dissolving, and the abused party is willing to take the risk, and on some cases, one can go to court to force the abusive party to go through with the surgery.”  
He hesitated. “Roger, the truth of the matter is, that in most cases bond cannot sustain unless there is a mutual desire to sustain it, even if you don’t know it yourself. I take it Mr. Roddick is - not adverse to seeing this continue beyond one heat?”  
Roger flushed. “I guess not. I don’t know why. I mean - “ He shook his head. “I always assumed, that if he liked me at all, it was in spite of himself.” He wiped at his face. “He helped me out and I hurt him in a way that I’ve - God, that I’ve never intended. That I didn’t think possible.” He gasped softly. “I’m married and I do love my wife, Andy - he’s -  we’re nothing alike and we’re rivals in our sport.” He rubbed at his face. “But there’s something - I can’t describe it, there’s something. I’m drawn to him. I keep dreaming about him. I can’t let go. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know if it’s the bond… or something more.”  
He looked at to the doctor, his expression tense. “It’s not just because he’s a male alpha, right? It wouldn’t have happened had I chosen another alpha to spend my heat with, I’m reacting  - specifically to Andy.”  
Dr Davis leaned forward. “What I saw, in the monitor, is a new but a powerful bond. There’s something in the chemistry of your body that’s calling for one another. But if there wasn’t a base of feelings, of affection, nurturing those emotions, the bond would have been much weaker. On normal circumstances, after the post-heat withdrawal had diminished, after some time apart spent with your wife, who is also an alpha, we should have seen a significant weakening in your bond with Andy. That did not happen. What I see is a healthy bond that hasn’t diminished with the separation so far .” He paused. “I’m sorry, if that’s not what you wanted to hear.”  
Roger greyed, and got up to pull his shirt up, then paced around the small room. Then he turned around. “What can I do?”  
“You can give it more time. Other than that - I don’t have any magic pills that can will a bond away. It’s completely dependent on you. Eventually, separation *will* take its toll on this bond, if you don’t see Andy and keep your distance from him, if you focus on your marriage and your bond with your wife. Eventually you will see results, but that can take a while.”  
Roger’s eyes closed in pain. “I’m suppose to see him week after next.”  
“Wimbledon.”  
“Yeah.” Roger said, then shook his head ruefully. “Got any advice for me? Do’s and don’ts?” He tried to go for cheerful, but thought it sounded as desperate as he meant it.  
The doctor pursed his lips, and Roger’s eyes widened. “What?”  
“You should anticipate a strong reaction to seeing Andy again.”  
“Define strong.”  
“Heat-like symptoms, the effect will be reduced, of course. You’ll have self control, but you’ll experience a strong yearning. Desire.”

“Great.” Roger said weakly. “That’s perfect. Nothing you can give me for that?”  
“Nothing that isn’t on the banned substances list, Roger. I am sorry.”  
Roger buried his face in his hands and stood there for a long moment.  Eventually Dr Davis continued. “I would like to talk to you about your diet and your sleeping.”  
“What sleeping.” Roger said, his voice rough and muffled through his hands, which he eventually removed. ”Hard to sleep when you’re having erotic dreams twice a night, and wake up with…” He said no more.   
“You could take a sleeping pill, even half a pill could help you sleep better.”  
Roger shook his head rapidly. “No, I can’t. I don’t perform as well after taking them  
“Roger.” The doctor said sternly. “You’re close to not performing at all. And it is imperative that you gain weight. If you’re not hungry, fine - you don’t have to be hungry, but you must eat. ”  
Roger grumbled.“My team wants you get me cleared to play Halle next week, or they won’t come with me. I mean, my fitness trainer was the one who threatened me, but they’ll all follow him. So I’ll need a note, I guess.” He rubbed his face. “Like a fucking junior.”  
Dr Davis crossed his hands in front of him. “I’m not so sure that I am clearing you to play, Roger. Not next week. Your blood pressure is a little low, your weight is down, and emotionally you’re struggling.”’  
“What? No! I have to play a preparation tournament before Wimbledon. I haven’t played for over a month.” He ran a shaky hand over his face. “Look. Please. I’ll cooperate with your suggestions, all of them, just give me the note.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t sit at home, I’m going mad. I have to focus on something else that matters.”

There was a long moment of silence between them, then Dr Davis sighed. “I want you to take half a sleeping pill, and I want you to follow the diet I’m giving you. Now, I’m not a sports expert, so if you’re fitness trainer has issues with something, have him speak to me. He should know what I’m prescribing.”   
He turned to his desk, and scribbled something on a paper. “I’m clearing you to play, not without reservations. I’m available for a consult whenever you need.”  
Roger’s sigh of relief was audible as he reached out for the note only to see it held just out of his reach. “Mr. Federer.” Dr. Davis said warningly, with a cock of the brow. “This will not be easy.” He handed him the note.  
Roger’s expression was grim. “It never is.”  
“I’m not talking about the tennis.”  
“I know.” He looked away. “I know.”

\-----------

  
“Anyone there?” Roger called out when he got to the house. “Mir?” He frowned.

“Roger?”  
Roger gave out a cry of fear and turned around, sighing when he saw Tony Godsick exiting the bathroom.   
“Jesus. Tony. You scared the shit out of me.”  
Tony looked embarrassed. “You weren’t home and - well, you gave me a key this one time, and the doorman knows me.”  
Roger glowered, disgusted. “Seriously? He shouldn’t have just let you in.” He looked at his watch. “Mirka isn’t home? It’s 10 PM.” He frowned at Tony.”What are you doing here? You should have called in advance you know.”  
Tony grimaced “I thought we need to talk. Frankly, I was afraid that if I called in advance you’d say no.” He stopped to look at Roger, and took a step back. “Christ, Roger.”  
“What?” Roger said, defensively.   
“Did you forget to eat?”   
Roger glowered. “Maybe you should try that yourself for a little while.” Being hurtful tasted good and bitter on his lips.

He took off his jacket and flung it over on the counter. “I thought you said all you wanted to say last time we talked. I don’t care for a repeat of that, *at all*.”  
Tony sighed. “I’m trying to apologize. I have tried to apologize, you haven’t taken any of my calls.”  
Roger turned on him. “No, I didn’t, because I have a lot going on right now. You said that had you known I was an Omega, you would have found another client to take on. I took that as your resignation, so forgive me if I wasn’t in a huge rush to take calls from my ex-agent.”  
“Look,” Tony came around the counter, standing face to face to Roger. “I apologize. I was speaking in anger that you lied to me. And that you let me find out about you caste from the news, and made my job a hell of a lot harder.” He sighed. “A client is not all that you are to me and I think you know that.” .  
“You could have fooled me!” Roger snarled.   
“I didn’t mean what I said. And I’ve been sleeping on the sofa for a week. Mary-Jo is pretty angry with me.”  
“You know what, Tony, honestly I don’t care. I don’t need an agent who looks down at me because I’m an Omega. That’s the last thing I need in my life right now.”  
Tony sighed, and closed his eyes. “That’s not.. can we sit down for a minute, please?”  
Roger paused, then nodded. “Fine. I’m grabbing something from the fridge, because you’re not the only person in my life ordering me to eat more.” He ran a hand through his hair. ”Look, you flew in from the States. Do you want something to eat, drink?”  
Tony shook his head. “Nah. You were right, I should watch what I’m eating.”  
Roger took out some left-over pasta from the fridge and microwaved it, and on an afterthought, grabbed a apple from the counter.He sat next to Tony, and handed him the apple. “Here, that’s what’s good for you.”  
Toni took the apple, then glanced at Roger’s plate. “Your Pasta looks way better.”  
Roger didn’t smile. “I know. I wish I had some real appetite for it. Everything taste bland to me.”  
At Tony’s questioning eyes, he looked away. “It’s - it’s a post-heat related thing. Drop it.” His look hardened. “You said you wanted to talk to me, so talk”

Tony examined his fingers for a moment, then looked up. “My younger brother, Raymond, you remember him?”  
Roger nodded, surprised. “I think I met him once. In the USO couple of years back, what’s that got to do with anything?”  
“He’s a big guy, right? Wanted to play football. We all thought he turned out to be an alpha. I’m an alpha. My dad was an alpha, Mom was a beta with three alpha brothers. Then he hit his teens and - “  
“Omega.” Roger said softly. “I don’t recall I noticed that.”

“His body resisted the suppressants. It happens to some, as you know. You can start playing with dosage and brands until you find the right one, only we didn’t realize the drugs weren’t taking properly, and the second time he went into heat was during school, hit him right after practice, when they were all in the locker-rooms. Lots of teen alphas around, you can imagine how it turned out.”  
Roger closed his eyes. This was not such a rare story. “No football for him after.”   
“No.” Tony said, a catch ins his voice. “A lot of home-schooling. though. He never quite got over that. Look, how I reacted - it wasn’t about you. Roger, I - Christ. You don’t need me to tell you what a terrific player you are, and even if you weren’t making me a pretty darned good living - “ They both shared a smile at that. “I’d still want to be your agent, and frankly, you need all the help you could get right now. You’re causing yourself a real PR nightmare by sitting home and brooding and not talking to the press.”  
Roger gave a small, sharp nod, which was full of pain. “I know. I’m flying over to Halle tomorrow. I haven’t figured out what to do, exactly.” He put a hand over his face. “It’s been - a really tough couple of weeks. I’m not coping very well.”  
“Is the Andy thing true?” Tony asked softly.  
Roger’s face twisted. “If you’re asking about the heat, yes, it’s true.”  
Tony tapped the table with his fingers. “Not exactly what I was asking about. I think you know that. Do you wanna talk about it?”  
Roger couldn’t smile. “I rather gouge my eyes out with a teaspoon, if you don’t mind.”

“Okay.”  Tony smiled uneasily. “Okay. I won’t pry, but you’ll get asked a lot of questions about that.” He paused. “Do you accept my apology? I - didn’t mean any of what I said. I was just stunned, that’s all.”  
Roger looked at him for a long moment, then nodded briskly.”It’s- yeah.” He rubbed at his face. “Yeah.” Tony let out a soft sigh of relief, and relaxed. “Honestly, Rodge, I thought you will rest until Wimbledon, skip Halle.You don’t look ready to play.”  
Roger sent him a sharp look. “Not you too.” Tony raised his hands defensively. “Your call, as your agent, I want you to play, but not if you collapse in the middle of the tournament.”  
Roger rolled his eyes.  “I won’t. I can’t imagine I’ll get very far, but I want to play.”  
Tony sighed. “Look, there’s another reason I’m here. I have to talk to you about something.” He paused. “I’ve been talking to Rolex lately.”  
Roger’s eyes widened. “What about?”  
Tony sighed, and gave Roger a sympathetic look. “Roger, they will not renew. They will follow this current contract, they will not break it, but no new commercials,  and they will not renew.”  
Roger paled. “But - Wimbledon. We shot that promo a while back and.”  
“They won’t show it, Roger. This is a company run by stuffy alphas, you never stood a chance with them to begin with, had they known the truth. You could win Wimbledon week after next, and I doubt it would make them change their minds. ”  
At Roger’s stung expression, Tony reached for his arm. “Rog?”  
He shook him off. “I need air.” He went to the window, opened it and took a deep breath, waiting for the lump in his throat to recede. He loved Rolex, he loved being their spokesperson, it was a good fit, it would have been a good fit - if it wasn’t all based on a lie. He toyed with his watch. Fighting the urge to take it off altogether. The current contract was still running. He could feel Tony in his back, hovering. “Anyone else?”  
“Mercedes is… on the fence. A lot would depend on your results and general public reaction. Moet and Chandon are completely with you.”  
Roger smiled, a bit bitterly.“Champagne, the drink of love-making. They can’t piss off their Omega customers.” He hesitated. “What about Nike?” Nike was the big question, the big money was there, as well as a pretty decent representation of public opinion.

“They’re behind you, and your contact still has serious mileage on it. But Roger - they really wish you would say speak out about it. I didn’t know what to tell them.”  
Roger swallowed, and still gazing out the window. “I fucked that up, haven’t I?”  
“How do you mean?”  
“Being Omega. Not coming out. Hiding out here for a month. I really messed it up. There are thousands of Omega kids out there, and I lied to all of them.” His voice was raw. “I don’t know how you can make up for something like that. How should Nike, or any of my sponsors, not be ashamed of me when everything I did so far shows that I am ashamed of myself?. I guess I’m a crappy role-model after all.”  
Tony’s eyes widened just a bit. “Tell me you know this isn’t true.” He squeezed Roger’s shoulder, but removed it as Roger went rigid. “Are you still pissed at me?”    
Roger’s shook his head. "No. I’m just - “ He turned. “Look. you should know what’s going on. I have a bond with Andy, and I’m on on a sort of prolonged post-heat withdrawal. I’m just very sensitive to touch.“  
Tony stared. “What? What bond?”  
Roger looked away. “Please, don’t ask questions. You should just know, that’s all.”

He turned at the sound of the key in the keyhole. Mirka walked in, in her running clothes. “Tony!” She called out, a smile on her face. “What are you doing here?” She looked between the two of them and the smile faded a bit.

Roger stood up. his hands on his hips and glared at her. “It’s almost eleven. Where the hell were you?”  
She gave him a withering look. “I was running in the park.”  
“In this hour of the night?” He frowned at her. “With those earrings and that ring? Do you want to get mugged or worse?”  
Her eyes narrowed at him. “Mugged? At *this* neighborhood? Roger. There’s security all over the place, What’s with you? I just needed to clear my head.” Her eyes bore into him questioningly.  
Roger moved a hand over his face.”Nothing. I - nothing. I thought you might have - nothing.”  
Tony cleared his throat. “Okay, kids. That’s my cue to leave.” He looked at Roger. “We’re flying to Halle tomorrow in the Jet?”  
At Roger’s nod, Mirka’s eyes widened in disbelief. “The doctor cleared you to play?!”  
Roger didn’t meet her eyes. “Yeah.”  
“Right.” She said skeptically. “Where’s his note? Pierre will want to see it.”   
Roger’s lips tightened “You do realize I don’t actually *need* to have a doctor note if I want to play a tournament, right?” He could feel a flush coming up his neck, into his face, a flush of rage and helplessness. “I can just -  pack up my bags and go. That’s the beauty of tennis. I need myself and a couple of racquets, shoes too, but that’s it.”

“Yes. Roger.” A muscle in her jaw tightened. “That’s all you need. Yourself and a couple of racquets. Remind me again when this last happen? Oh. That’s right. Never.”

Roger, seething in rage, took out his wallet, and slammed the note on the table.”There it is. Now will you fucking get off my case?!”

She stared at him, shocked, then turned to Tony. Closing her eyes for a long moment before geting control of her voice. “Um, Tony.”  
Tony stood there, in a daze. “Yeah. I’m going. I’ll call tomorrow morning.” He glanced at Roger, who didn’t react, and was about to walk out the door. His hand was already on the handle when he said, his back still turned toward them. “I don’t know what’s going on. but fix that shit up. I’m not kidding.”  
As soon as he was out, Mirka turned to Roger, her eyes burning. “Don’t ever talk to me like that in front of people again.”  
“Don’t imply I’m dishonest in front of people, then! Can you maybe think about the stuff that comes out of your mouth sometimes?! God!”  
She studied him for a long moment, then crossed her hands on her chest and took a deep breath, controlling her temper, then softened her voice considerably. “What did the doctor tell you?””  
Roger stiffened and looked away. “This has nothing to do wit-”  
“I didn’t go with you because I felt you should do that alone and I knew you wanted to go by yourself. I thought that you should be able to speak freely, without worrying about me. I didn’t ask to come with you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to hear what he said. It’s my life, too. You know. I want to know what he said.”  
Roger sighed, then nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” He sank down heavily on the couch, and she sat next to him, pulling her knees to her chest, waiting for him to speak.

Roger shrugged. “Well. He gave me some sleeping pills.”   
Mirka nodded. “Good. I know you barely sleep.”

His face heat up instantly, as her eyes pierced him. “And yes, I also know why.” She sighed. “Roger, do you think I’m stupid?, or that I don’t know my own husband?”

Roger paled. “No.” He choked out. “I know you’re not. That’s the problem. I don’t - I’m not doing that intentionally. I don’t want to hurt you, and I am.” His voice grew softer. “All the time.”

He put a hand over his eyes. “When I came back and you were gone. And I thought you left. That’s why I was - angry like that. I lost it a bit.”  
She bit her lower lip. “I usually leave a note.”  
“Yes, I know.”  
“I didn’t this time.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I wanted you to worry.” She smiled a shaky smile. “Juvenile, isn’t it.”  
He looked at her, then shook his head. “It’s not. And that I was. Worried, I mean.”

“Right. You didn’t even call me. I had my cell with me.”  
Roger paused. “Tony - I - he distracted me. I’m - I don’t know. I don’t know why I didn’t try your cell. I was - afraid.”  
She reached out to move a stray curl from his face. “Roger. You’re derailing. just tell me what he said.”  
Roger studied his shoes. “The bond - with Andy, it hasn’t - gone away, or faded, or  - it just didn’t.”  
Her hand trembled, and then clenched into a fist. “Not at all?”

Roger shook his head mutely. Saying sorry seemed hollow. He couldn’t look at her at all.

“What advice did he give you, then?”  
Roger swallowed. “Just to - wait it out. All bonds fade eventually, even if this one… even if that takes longer.”

At her complete body clench, he looked up. “Mir.” He begged. “It’s nothing I can control.”  
He expression was blank and pained. “Right. And there are no other options?”  
Roger bit his lip. “A surgical option. Which he - didn’t recommend. Likely I won’t be able to  - ever bond again, with anyone. Andy will have to cooperate and would possibly have the same problem.” He swallowed. “I won’t ask that of him. I can’t. I don’t have that right.”  
She nodded, then lowered her head to her knees, and said nothing at all for a long while.

“Mirka.” He whispered. “Look at me, please.”  
“I never wanted to date an Omega, you know.” Her words hitting him in a wall of pain. “When we first met, it wasn’t just because you were younger than me. I just I always saw myself with a Beta. I just thought that, I’ll be always a second choice for an Omega.”  
“You were never that.” Roger whispered.

“I am now.” She said in pain.  
“You were never that.” He repeated, then buried his head on her shoulder, holding her to him. There was nothing more he could say.


	10. Chapter 10

                                                               

They fell asleep as they were, on the uncomfortable couch, in an uneasy truce.

Mirka hasn’t showered after her run, and the slight tang of sweat lingered, making her alpha scent strong and comforting. Maybe that was why there were no dreams of Andy that night. Maybe he was too mentally exhausted for dreams of any kind.

In the morning  Roger found himself sleeping on the couch alone, covered in a blanket that wasn’t there the night before, a better pillow under his head.

He curled to the other side and checked his phone, then settled on doing something he hasn’t done for over a month and usually avoided from doing at all, unless fresh from a Slam win. He googled his own name.  
  


The articles ranged from sympathetic to furious.

Some called him a master of deception, who fooled the tennis world for years.

Others accused him of ‘pretending’ to be of a legitimate caste, Doubting his achievements were possible without drugs.

More business oriented articles discussed a possible loss of income now that his sordid secret was out.

The tabloids analysed the relationship between Omega Men and Alpha Females and the success rates of those relationships. It wasn’t high.

Worse were the articles written by Omegas. He got as far as a blog written by a young, unnamed, Omega tennis player, who talked about his feelings of hurt and betrayal. Roger was his idol, he said, but no more. Not ever again.

 

Roger buried his face in the pillow, letting the phone drop, feeling sick. He turned at the hand on his shoulder. “What is it?” Mirka asked him, her hair still wet from the shower, as she sat on the edge of the sofa.  
He turned to her, handing her the phone wordlessly and he watched her read, and the frown on her forehead deepening. She sighed, then caressed his cheek. “It was always going to be a shock for a lot of people. We need to figure out what you’re going to say, but everyone will forgive and forget eventually.”   
He leaned into her hand. “Including you?”  
Her hand froze on his cheek, but she didn’t remove it. “It’s not comparable. It’s hard to forget what is.” She hesitated. “Did you sleep okay last night?”  
He nodded, resisting the urge to lean into her again. “Yes, better than in a long while.” He tried to smile. “It was worth feeling my neck making creaky sounds when I move.”  
She grimaced. “I fell asleep all sweaty and disgusting.”

Roger shook his head no. “You smelled good. I like the way you smell.”  
She trembled, and untangled her hand from his, tears suddenly pooling in her eyes. He sat up, frowning. “What did I do now?”  
“Nothing.” she whispered. “You didn’t do anything.” She got up and turned to the door. “We have a flight to catch.”  
“Mir, come on.”  
She stopped at the door. “You’re trying hard, and - I’m happy for that, I just hate the fact you have to try this hard.”

Roger dropped back on the couch, exasperated, as she left the room.  
  


\----

They worked on his possible answers for press conference questions on the plane. What he will answer, what he will not. He could see Tony’s eyes watching him and Mirka like a hawk, and his palpable relief when he saw them communicating normally, more or less.

Pierre caught him at the back of the plane, when he came out of the bathroom. “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Rog? Play Halle, I mean.”  
Roger gave him a despairing look. “I have to see where I am. I know you don’t feel I’m physically up to par, but I can get there. And mentally I need to get back into the groove of playing.”  
Pierre grimaced, then nodded. “Just don’t put any pressure on yourself. Just playing would be good. Don’t worry about winning.”  
Roger grimaced. “Not worry about winning. You cannot be serious. This is not in my DNA”  
The Frenchman snorted, then smiled. “I know, but I am serious. Practice, get back into tournament shape. If you can win some matches, great, if not we get ready for Wimbledon.”  
He put both hands on Roger’s shoulders and squeezed. “You haven’t told me what the doctor said. Mirka said he cleared you to play, but not much more.” When Roger looked away, Pierre’s hand tightened on his  shoulder. “Roger. You can’t keep everything to yourself. It’s not healthy.”  
Roger’s forced smile was fryed around the edges. “I have to, okay? Talking about it doesn’t help. It would just make it worse.” He glanced toward Mirka as she examined the presser notes matter of factly. “It’s so tough on her. She - resents me. She’s trying not to but she does.”  
“It’s hard for the both of you.”

Roger gave him a look. “She’s not the one who screwed up.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I know you mean well, really, I do - but I can’t focus on tennis if I’m constantly thinking about the mess my personal life are at the moment.”  
Pierre opened his mouth to say something, then sighed. “Fine. I won’t say another word. You know I’m there for you, though, right?”

Roger nodded. Pierre clasped his shoulder, and watched as the younger man took a seat next to Mirka, glancing to her notes.  
He turned sideways at the feeling of someone behind him.  
“I still don’t think he should play.” Severin said. Roger raised his eyes at them with a frown, aware they were talking about him, but unable to hear them. He pursed his lips in amusement, but they both ignored him.  
“He needs the distraction.” Pierre said softly, his voice pitched only for Severin’s ears. “He’s not exactly fit, but he got a medical permission to play. Maybe it would be good for him. I hope it would.”  
“Yeah?” Seve’s voice was sarcastic. “I think it’s going to be an unmitigated disaster.”  
\-----

“Andy? Dude you should come to the lounge.”  
Andy looked up at Isner who leaned against the door. Fuck, he was a big boy. He lumbered over him easily.“Why’s what?”  
“Federer. Press conference in two minutes. In Halle”   
His heart thudded hard in his chest. A sudden thump. Then it lodged itself somewhere in his throat. “Roger pulled out of Halle.” Andy said, dumbly.  
“Guess not. he’s there, giving a pre-tournament press conference right off the plane. Beating the press to their articles, I guess. Smart, though a little late.”

Andy’s feet felt glued to the floor. “Look, go ahead, I’m - ” he shook his head, and fell quiet, he couldn’t explain the emotion coursing through him, the thought of seeing Roger again, and to go through that in the lounge, with everyone looking at him, was not a pleasing thought.  
The younger man stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Aren’t you - I don’t know - curious? Everyone is going to watch that.”  
Andy moved a hand over his face. “Which is why I can’t be there, plus - a lot of the things he’s going to say I already know, as you might have guessed.”  
John’s eyes on him were almost intrusive. “You know, I didn’t ask you anything, because it’s none of my business, but you’re fucking worrying me, Andy. You’re not acting normal. And I’ve seen alphas on bond withdrawal before, they didn’t act like that, they bitched and moaned, but it didn’t last for that long. They didn’t look - like somebody died.”  
Andy glared up. Which was annoying, because glaring down was more effective, and he had a good glare, one that made young tennis players with an attitude and whimpy linesmen wither a little in their seats, but no one could glare down at John Isner. You just can’t bully a guy that height. “Duly noted, I hope you don’t charge for the psychobabble. Anything else?”

There was a pause, then Isner sighed. “Fine. Be this way, but I’m a good listener, and you may want to talk to someone who isn’t the guy you used to screw around with.”

Andy glanced up at him and Isner rolled his eyes. “Come on, I know you and Mardy used to get it on. Mardy wouldn’t mind it happening again on occasion, you know. Maybe that’s what you need. The distraction.”  
”You’re really suggesting that I use my best friend, which is also your friend, for sex in order to forget my -” He fell silent, because what was Roger, to him,  really? Not a lover, not a boyfriend, and mate was a painful and pitiful word, in the circumstances they were in. “Drop it.” He sighed. “Look. Even if I wanted to - I can’t sleep with someone else right okay, okay? I can’t.” He felt himself flushing.  
Isner stopped smiling and sat down next to him. “Do you think, that there’s any chance that Roger...I don’t know, decides to try that, with you? I know it seems unlikely, but I do know that if the Alpha is suffering from a bond withdrawal, the Omega will too. Like ten times worse.”  
Andy swallowed. “I seriously doubt it. He has Mirka. Eventually what I’m feeling should pass, or so I’m told. I’m just waiting for that moment to finally happen.”   
He looked at Isner. “Look, if Mardy has any ideas, and he talks about them with you, tell him to focus his efforts elsewhere, okay? I told him no once, I don’t want to fuck up our friendship.”  
Isner sighed, then nodded. He got up. “Well, I’m going to watch Roger’s presser. Sure you don’t want to come?”  
At the shake of Andy’s head, Isner left.

 

A couple of moments later, though, he was drawn to the longue. He stood in a remote corner of the room as everyone currently on the premises gathered around the TV.

His mouth tightened as Roger entered the room where the presser was held.   
Andy could see the nervousness, the tenseness of the jaw. Most of all, he still looked extremely thin. His Tshirt was a simple cotton white Nike shirt with a “Just do it”. He chuckled to himself at that..

Andy also noticed the absence of Roger’s ever-present Rolex. His wrist was bare.Fuck, so that rumor was true. Rolex did drop him.

Roger sat down, surveyed the room, took a sip of water, and gestured, Andy guessed to the supervisor, that he was good to begin. The question’s bombardment started almost right away.   
  
Q: “Roger, it’s good to see you back on tour. Can you talk to us a little about what happened in Hamburg?”

Roger smiled thinly. “Well, I’m not - I’m not going to talk about Hamburg, per say. It’s deeply personal. I am here to answer all of your other questions, as candidly as I can, but I’m not talking about what happened in Hamburg.”

Q: “I don’t know what the purpose  of this press conference is, if you won’t talk about what happened in Hamburg.”

Roger’s shrug was carefully planned. “I’m sure someone here has a question I will answer, perhaps it’s not you though. Someone else please.”

Q: Can you talk about the rumor, which has yet to be confirmed, that you are actually an Omega and not a Beta, as we thought.?”

Roger’s audible swallow was clear to anyone watching. “Yes. That’s true. I don’t recall anyone ever asking me about my caste in press before, but yeah, that’s true.”

Q: “Why keep it a secret?”

Roger bit his upper lip. “I - the truth is that I don’t really know. I was afraid I guess. I was very young when the decision was first made to keep my Omega status under wraps.Things were a bit different then. I do believe the world today is more open. I never planned to keep it as a big secret, then before I knew it I won Wimbledon, because number 1. I didn’t know how to come out then.”

“Q: You didn’t come out. That decision was made for you.”

“Yes.” Roger stared at an unseen spot in the room. “There’s a lot of prejudice against Omegas. I wanted to be judged by accomplishments and achievements alone, not by how they relate to my Omega status. Then - I became almost too successful. I didn’t want to deal with the problems coming out would bring. Things were easier that way. And it’s no one’s business anyway.”

Q: “Don’t you think it makes you accomplishments even more impressive? Omegas on tour are a rare thing. Omegas in the top 100 are almost unheard of. No Omega  had even won a Slam, other than you.”

Roger shrugged. “ Honestly? I think it’s a bunch of bigoted nonsense perpetrated by the media. I don’t see why Omega players can’t be as successful as the Alphas. I never felt like my competitiveness was lacking in any way either. Yes, there are certain physical and biological differences, but did I feel especially hindered by any of them? No. Good preparation and knowing your body helps, but that’s important for any tennis player. I could never bulk up big like some alpha or beta players, but I don’t need that to play my style of tennis.”

“Q: You experienced difficulties controlling your emotions.”

Roger’s lip quirked in a bitter half-smile. “Yes. That. Somehow I knew you’ll get to that sooner or later. Yes, I’ve cried on court once or twice. I’m not convinced it’s because I’m an Omega. These courts seen a lot of tears from Alphas, too. If we win it’s emotional, and if we lose that’s emotional. I didn’t know that Omegas have a mandate on tears. But if it is - so what? I win more than I cry, and sometimes I manage to do both at the same quite successfully.”

Andy looked at the room who pretty much listened to Roger in silence, riveted.  
Rafa, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, engrossed with the press conference, laughed softly into his sleeve.  
Verdasco, from his place on the couch, let out a voice of begrudging admiration to Kevin Anderson, sitting on his left. “Puta. He’s doing it good. Smooth.”   
“He’s Federer. Of course it’s smooth.” Anderson laughed.”Watch him getting out of lying to everyone like a fucking king.”

Feli was sitting on the floor, at Fernando’s feet, leaning his head against Fernando’s knee, his expression hollow and pained.

Fernando glanced down, and Andy could see him reaching out to almost tough Feli’s hair, but he stopped at the last second, his hand returning to his lap, and shifted agitatedly, causing Feli to stop leaning, and sit up straight, his expression curdling. His face were blank for a moment, then he then got up, and left the room, without even a look back.

Rafa sent Fernando a hard look, and gestured with his hand. Fernando shook his head no and looked away. Rafa sighed, and got up, going after his friend, disgruntled.

  
Andy tore his gaze away from the drama to look back at the screen, glancing up as Mardy sat next to him. He didn’t particularly want his company or his watchful eyes, but accepted the coffee he handed him. “He’s doing well with the questions so far.” Mardy commented. “But he’s not winning any matches looking like that. You didn’t feed him during his heat or what?”  
Andy ignored him, and just kept looking at the screen. It was going well. Too well. They weren’t asking anything too difficult. It was alarming. Roger was relaxing into it, he could tell. No. No Roger. Danger.

Q: “Are you mad at Novak Djokovic for basically outing you?”

Roger shifted, his expression darkening, there was a long period of silence. “I don’t know, to be honest. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him. It wasn’t just his fault, and from what I know, he wasn’t completely coherent when he did that. Hard for me to hold that against him.”

Q: “Several French players reported that he had to be basically dragged from your hotel room.”

Roger frowned. “I never saw him that night. He wasn’t in my hotel room at any stage, so I can’t confirm or deny anything that happened out of my hotel room, I don’t - I never asked for the details of what exactly happened there. I’m not sure I want to know. but if he was around and was - affected - I’m not mad at him for that. I can’t be. It’s an alpha’s instinct and he’s young. Younger than me anyway. The younger you are the less you have control as an alpha, we all know that. I’m just - relieved - nothing happened, and I’m sure he feels the same.”

Q: “There was reportedly a fight between Djokovic and Roddick in the locker-room in Hamburg, so maybe Andy disagrees with your sentiment.”

Roger’s tone was clipped. “Well, you’ll have to ask Andy about that, as clearly I wasn’t around for that either.”

Q: “We would. But he refused to participate in press conferences at the French Open and yesterday in Queens, too. He took the fines and hasn’t talked to the press.”

Roger’s mouth quirked. “Geez, why didn’t I think of that? Skip the press. Hmmm.” He paused to rub his chin dramatically,  which got him the laughter he was going for. He then said, more somberly. “Questions for Andy you’ll have to take up with him. Next question.”  
  


Andy smiled softly to himself. Roger was sharp, on point, playing the press like a fiddle. So far, so good, though Roger did drop this particular hot potato regarding the Djerk in his lap. Novak wasn’t playing Halle or Queens, because he never played a grass tune-up, so he did not have to deal with the press much.  
  


“Q: Roger, you’re smiling, you’re saying all the right things, but you do not look well. Clearly you lost a lot of weight. When I first saw you I thought ‘he’s not ready to play this tournament at all. He doesn’t look match fit.”

Roger shrugged. “My fitness isn’t optimal, but got cleared to play and I’m getting better by the day.” He smiled a little. “I’m eager to get out there and see where my body and fitness are. I can only try my best, and Wimbledon is the primary target.”

Q: “Can you explain what exactly is wrong with you?”

Roger’s eyes shifted and he took a long pause before sighing. “Mid-season heats would do that. At least they do for me. I think for many Omegas, heats come with weight loss and loss of fitness, especially if you went into heat - unexpectedly - like I did. I did not plan on this. It will take me a while to gain the weight and muscle back, but I’m on a strict diet designed to gain weight, and I’m confident I can play well here.”

Q: “And you still don’t think there’s a problem with an Omega playing top tennis?”

“No, I don’t.”

Q: “Even taking into consideration what it’s doing to you?”

“Playing tennis didn’t do anything to me, being uncareful about my suppressants did. I obviously won’t make the same mistake again. I handled my heats just fine for many years.”

Q: “Were emergency suppressants ever an option you considered?”

Roger ran a shaky hand over his face, and for a moment seemed disturbed. “Yes.” He choked out. “I decided not to. As it would have resulted in a ban of at least six months.”

Q: “This upsets you?”

A: “Yes. I don’t understand this. A week, a month I would have understood, but Omegas can go into heats three weeks after they’ve taken emergency suppressants, so it’s obviously not in the blood at that point. So to me that’s a stupid rule.”

Q: “Did you consider sticking it out?”

Roger frowned. “Sticking it out?”

Q: “Lock yourself somewhere and just go into heat.”

Roger smiled, the smile wasn’t pleasant. “You’re not an Omega, I gather.”

Q: “No, I’m a Beta.”

“Figures. Next question.”

Q:”Did you play Halle because Andy Roddick isn’t here?”

That caught Roger’s attention, his eyes narrowed. “I play Halle because I always play Halle, I have a contract to play here.  Andy’s in Queens, because he always plays Queens and won it a couple of times, too. I get that you’re a tabloid writer and not a tennis writer or a sports writer, but that’s just basic research.”

“I’m asking because according to what was reported, and which you do not deny, you shared your unexpected heat with Andy. According to the laws in most countries Omegas in heat cannot give consent during a heat, I wondered whether the avoidance is intentional. Maybe you don’t want to see the man who violated you while you couldn’t really resist.”

Andy felt like he had been stabbed in the gut. He didn’t look at the room, just at the screen. It was obvious to him Roger did not intend to confirm or deny the fact that the two of them shared a heat, but the question was cleverly constructed, obligating Roger to either lie, or set the record straight.  
Roger frowned, licking his lips. “Nothing happened to me against my will.”

“With all due respect, I don’t see how it is possible. It is typical for Omgas to protect the alpha who shared a heat with them, but heat sharing without prior consent is against the law.”

Roger glowered. “With all due respect,  I am not required to paint you a picture of exactly what happened or how it all came about. Nothing happened to me that was against the law or against my will, if that’s the angle you are going for in your story, you’re really barking up the wrong tree. I won’t answer anymore questions about it.”

“Only way this is possible is if Andy received consent from a next of kin or a mate..”

Roger fixed the reporter with a stare. “Are you hearing impaired?”   
Disgusted, he reached out for his water bottle, trying to get his anger under control.

Andy closed his eyes, he could almost feel Roger’s distress, taste it. He opened his eyes at the touch of Mike Bryan’s hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”  
Andy nodded mutely, then shook his head. “I don’t understand why he’s putting himself through this. He could just take the fines.”  
Mike shrugged. “He had to speak up. He waited too long as it is. You will too, eventually.”  
“I don’t give a fuck what anybody thinks.”  
“Right. Like you liked the accusations in the press that you never had proper consent. I have to say that I had my doubts. Mirka really gave you the go-ahead?”  
Andy’s look was dark. “Look what a mess I made of it.” He sighed. “Never mind that now. I want to watch him.”

  
“Q: Roger, I don’t know if you watched any of the matches in the French Open...”

  
“I watched a little bit of the Finals, that’s it.”

Q: “You didn’t watch Andy’s match with Hewitt, then?”

Roger hesitated, then said slowly. “I know he retired from that match, if that’s what you mean.”

Q: “With symptoms looking like a heart attack, which it clearly wasn’t, because he’s playing in Queens which obviously wouldn’t have happened if it was any kind or cardiac condition.”

“That’s yet another question for Andy.”

Q: “The symptoms looked very similar to what is commonly known as ‘bleeding heart syndrome.”

Roger, for the first time, looked utterly lost. After a period of silence, he said. “I’m not going to comment about Andy. That’s just not going to happen. You can try to ask him those questions, I wish you luck on that.” 

Q: “How are marriage life treating you?”

Roger’s mouth twisted in an ugly smile. “The concern is touching, really. Everything is fine.”

He looked around the room. “Any tennis related questions or something?”

Q: “There are rumors Rolex broke your sponsorship contract.”

Roger paused. “It’s not tennis related, but I’ll answer that one. “They didn’t break or breach the current contract, they informed me they will not renew. The contract is up in three months. As a result, I decided to cease my dealings with them effective immediately. I do not wish to represent them anymore. That is it. There’s a fine to go with it and I will pay it. But that contract was suppose to be renewed and now it’s not. So, I want nothing to do with them anymore.”

Q: “What reason did they give you, if you can talk about it.”

Roger shrugged. “They just do not think Alphas could relate to an Omega tennis player, and their clientele is mainly alpha. I think they are wrong. I hope they are wrong. I think that if you liked me before, this shouldn’t change your mind, but maybe I’m deluded. I - I  don’t know.”

“Any more contracts at risk?”

“Hopefully, no. But we’ll see, won’t we?”

“You’re up against Stepanek next. Talk about this match up.”

“Yeah. Dangerous match. Dangerous grass-court player. He can give players fits on the grass, hopefully I’m up for the task.”

Moderator: “Last question?”

Q: “Roger, did you hear from your fellow players after coming out? Did you receive any feedback from the locker-room?”  
Roger looked away. “Some. I don’t know. I haven’t been very receptive to phone calls in the last few weeks. I stayed home with my family and those closest to me. I have good friends playing here in Halle, hopefully they still are. I hope to get support, it would mean a lot.”

He looked around. “Thank you.”

He got up on jittery legs, and exited the room. Outside of the interview room, he leaned against the wall. Shaking.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

Severin was there waiting for him as he left the media room. His countryman and coach clapped his shoulder. “That was good.”  
“Was it?” He needed air, and for his limbs to stop shaking. “I don’t think so.”  
“Rog. You did good. You got some tricky questions. You handled yourself really well.”  
Roger ran a shaky hand over his face. “If you say so. Where are everyone?”  
“Tony got a phone-call from Rolex, I think they’re going for some damage control.”  
“For me or for them?” Roger muttered, distracted.  
“Hard to say. Pierre’s with him. Mirka went to - um, wash her face.”  
Roger looked up at that. “She’s in there?” He gestured toward the ladies room. Severin nodded wordlessly and Roger cocked a brow. “Does she think it went really well?”  
Seve wiped at his face tiredly. “It was never going to be easy on her, Rog. You, confirming to the world what they only suspected.”  
“Right.” He sighed. “Right. Don’t wait for us.”  
  


He walked in the bathroom to see Mirka at the sink, her head bowed low. He could see in the mirror how her mouth was drawn in a tight line. No one else was there. She looked at him through the mirror, and didn’t say anything.  
He leaned against the closed door. “I take it you don’t think it went well as Seve does.”  
She turned, her eyes were red and her make-up slightly smudged. “Do you?”  
He  shrugged, sighing. “I think the ceiling to how well it could have gone was rather low to begin with, but I guess it could have been worse.” He paused and pressed his lips. “You’re going to tell me what it was that I said that made you cry?”  
“My marriage is fine, thanks?” She mimicked his tone. ”That was  - overwhelmingly unconvincing.”  
Roger’s face curdled. “I thought we agreed that I wasn’t going to go into anything personal, that they don’t get to know everything we’re going through. Why are you mad that I gave a general answer?”  
“Because you didn’t even sound like you believed yourself, that’s why!” Mirka’s voice rose, in pitch and in vollum.  
Roger shook his head at her, anger lacing his voice. “Well, what did you want me to say?”

Mirka smiled a raw smile. “What did I want you to say? How about - ‘My marriage is fine. My wife is here in Halle with me, and I love her very much.”  
Roger turned his head away, swallowing hard. “And I wanted you there with me during press,” His voice was soft. “I guess neither of us got what they truly wanted.”  
Her face twisted. “I thought we agreed it wasn’t a good idea?”  
“You didn’t to be there and I - I get why. It’s just - it would have felt - a little less lonely sitting up there, answering all of those questions.”  
Her eyes searched Roger’s face. “So you punished me with that answer, Is that it?”  
“No!” He cried. “No. I just - I couldn’t bear - I couldn’t talk about you...us in there, in front of all those -” He took a gulping breath. “I would have - broken down. Being cynical and short helped me deal with their questions.”  The tremor in his arms got progressively worse and he closed his eyes against the wave of nausea that washed over him as his tension tied his stomach into knots. “I just can’t get it right no matter what, can I?”  
Mirka went to him when she saw the blood literally draining from his face, leaving him sweaty and pale. “Roger?”  
Roger pushed her away roughly, made his way to the toilet and threw his guts out. He could feel the bile rising, then slowly pushing it’s way out. His chest was heaving hard. It was a violent outburst.  
Mirka was gone for a moment, then she knelt next to him, and silently pressed a wet cloth onto his forehead. He didn’t have the strength to move away, even though she had angered him. He leaned his forehead to the edge of the toilet, panting. He felt to weak and shaky to move or get up.  
Her hand dropped, and she leaned her own forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled. “I didn’t mea-”  
“I really need for you to stop ragging on me.” He said, his voice throaty. “You have your reasons and I won’t claim your anger isn’t justified, but Mir - there are limits to what I can take and I think I’ve reached them.” He turned to her, wiping at his mouth, and met her eyes. “I’m doing the very best that I can. You have to start seeing that. You have to find it in your heart to forgive me, Or...” His throat was almost too closed for speech.  
She winced, then lowered her head to his chest. “Okay.” She whispered. “I’ll work on that. Maybe I should try harder too.”  
He gasped a little. “Okay?” That was not what he expected. He cupped the back of her head. Running his fingers through her hair. “Really?”  
She nodded, then raised her head, .“Andy. He has bleeding heart syndrome?”  
Roger blinked, tensing up again. “What?”  
Her eyes saw too much, she was too sharp and she knew him way too well. “Roger. Don’t ‘what’ me like you didn’t hear me the first time. It wasn’t news for you, when they said it.” She bit her lip, then looked up at him. “That day we started to - when you couldn’t continue.  Andy passed out during his match? Only because we made love?”  
Roger nodded, unable to speak.  
Her look was quizzical. “You didn’t pass out. You were in pain, that I remember. But you didn’t pass out.”  
He opened his mouth, but words struggled to leave. “I - had - have a bond with you. That’s different from Andy’s situation.” He sighed when realized he shared very few details of his conversations with the doctor. “I’ve seen them. The - bonds. The doctor showed me. Ours -  it’s not in a great bad shape, but it’s there.” He held her tighter. “It’s there, but no fucking way can I do this without you.”  
Slowly, her hands wrapped tightly around his waist, and looked up at him. “Does this hurt you, if we do this?”  
Roger shook his head no, because it hadn’t hurt, not really. It still felt strangely wrong. It made him feel guilty. No matter what he was doing he felt guilty and disloyal. There was no escaping that.  
“And if I kissed you.”  
He recoiled slightly. “Mir, I threw up, that’s disg-oh.”  
His voice died when she kissed him softly. They were both mindful of the unknown line they did not want to cross. A moment later Mirka pulled back slightly, and blinked her lips. Their eyes opened and held, then Mirka let out a soft chortle. “Maybe not one of my better idea.”  
Roger smiled slightly, and leaned his forehead against hers.  “I’m sorry I’m putting you through this.”  
“I know.” She said, more matter-of-factly than before, then looked around.”I don’t really want to make out with you in a bathroom, and you need to hit the practice courts, if you’re feeling well enough.”  
He took a deep breath. “I guess everyone in the locker-room were watching the press conference.” He didn’t tried to mask the nervousness, and she wasn’t fooled anyway.  
She cupped his cheek in her hand. “Roger, it will be alright..”

“Yeah.” He sighed into her. “Sure.” He didn’t quite move though.

\------

 

Thirty minutes and a mouth wash later, Roger made himself enter the very crowded locker-room, one foot after another.The TV was on, with German TV analyzing his press conference loudly.  He forced himself to hold his head up high, and to look every person in the eye as he crossed the locker-room to his own locker, at the very end. He made both Pierre and Seve stay behind. He wanted to deal with the players on his own. Without backup. He was a big boy.  
  


Usually, walking into the locker-room in Halle was very enjoyable, second only to Basel. Lots of friends and players he got on well with played this tournament. This time, it was a nerve-wrecking experience. It was the silence the killed him. Normally there would be high-fives and pats on the back and handshakes and friendly commotion, maybe an ill-timed commiseration over that clay final or another. This time people were relatively silent. Some nods of acknowledgement, an uncertain smile here and there, but generally speaking - the vibe was uneasy.  
What were worse were the averted looks. Marcel Granollers looked away, so did - to his surprise, Xavier Malisse, whom he definitely considered a friend. Without even planning on it, he stopped in the middle of the locker-room. “Hi.” He said, hoping his voice was way more confident than he was feeling, and readjusted his bag on his shoulder. He only had one chance of a first impression.  
“Just so you know, If anyone has anything to ask me or to tell me. You can ask whatever. I’ll be over there.” He gestured with his head to his favorite bench and locker. He did not actually process the reaction to his words as he headed directly to the bench and sat down, occupying himself with putting a grip on one of his racquets, something he’s very rarely done for himself. Blood was thrumming in his ears. His heart was going a hundred miles an hour.  
“Roger.”  
He looked up to see Malisse. The alpha smiled at him. “Welcome back.” He offered a hand, which Roger clasped in his, gratefully. relieved he must have read him wrong. “Thanks man.”  
“Your press conference was the most interesting thing around here today.”  
Roger mouth twisted in a wry smile. “Always happy to entertain.”  
Xavier nudged him slightly, almost in apology. “Omega, huh?” his mouth quirked. “You know, if you ever need help with another heat.”  
Roger froze. It was like the floor sank from under him. Her searched Xavier’s face. “It’s not funny.” He said in a hoarse voice. “And don’t ever say something like that to me again. Ever.”  
The smirk was wiped off Xavier’s face. “Roger, I was joking.“  
“For a second I thought you came over to be a friend. Instead you came here for the most - revolting come-on in the world. Have some respect for my wife, at least. “  
Xavier stared at him for a long moment and ducked his head.“You’re right. I’m sorry. I made a crude joke and it fell flat. I didn’t really mean anything by it.”  
Roger gave him a withering look of disgust. “Right. Just get out of my face.”

He was not blind to the way his voice carried in the locker-room, or the deafening silence in its wake.

“Rog!” Roger swerved to see Tommy entering the locker-room. “Fuck. You should have told me you were coming.” He was about to embrace Roger when he stopped, troubled, and looked between Xavier and Roger, suddenly aware of the silence of the locker-room or the palpable tension on Roger’s face. His eyes narrowed. “What the hell is going on?”  
“Nothing is going on.” Roger said quickly, sending Tommy a look of warning.Tommy frowned at him, but said nothing. Xavier bit his lip. “Roger, I do apologize.”  
Roger’s look was withering and Xavier walked away, pale.  
Tommy swarved at Roger. “What did he say to you?” Tommy demanded.   
“I said nothing already, didn't I?” Roger snapped, shaken. “It doesn’t matter.” Tommy wasn’t convinced.  “I thought you were going to skip Halle.”  
“I need the practice and I need to get back to the tour.” He said shortly, then his voice softened and lowered as he met Tommy’s still watchful eyes. “Look, he was just being a dick, but if I won’t kill it in the bud I’ll be hearing nothing but Omega jokes for the rest of my career and I have no patience with it. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone about me or try to defend me. I know how you are. Let me deal with things on my own.”  
Tommy’s jaw clenched in defiance, and Roger’s eyes narrowed. “Tommy, I don’t need your protection more than I did a couple of months ago, okay? What I do need is a practice partner.”  
Tommy flushed at that. “I - Oh. Rog, you know I would, but I’m playing Dolgopolov first round.”  
Roger grimaced. The meaning was clear. Tommy would need to practice against a Lefty. He hadn’t considered the possibility Tommy wouldn’t be his practice partner. He wasn’t sure he wanted to expose the current deficiencies in his fitness just yet to anyone else, and a practice might do that. At Roger’s expression, Tommy frowned. “Doesn’t matter, I can pr-”  
“Don’t be an idiot.” Roger grumbled. “Go practice with a lefty. If I can’t get myself a practice partner I might as well pack my things and go home now.”

“I wouldn’t worry.”  
Roger turned to see Lleyton Hewitt smiling affably at him. The Aussie reached out for his hand, which Roger, a bit taken aback, shook after a moment. “Hey Lleyton. Good seeing you.”

There was something of a smirk in Lleyton’s smile. “You have guts mate, I’ll give you that. That was some press conference.”  
Roger smiled a thin smile. “You think?”  
Lleyton smiled. “I think you got what you wanted from it.” He paused. “You want to practice?”  
Roger glanced at Tommy and then eyed Lleyton carefully. “I happen to know you just a little bit.” He said slowly. “No way you don’t have a practice partner lined-up for today. You don’t improvise.”  
Lleyton smirked. “You caught me. I was waiting for you. I was in the tournament director’s office when Tony Godsick called him right before the draw. You have Monfils first round by the way.” At Roger’s frown he waved his hand. “He didn’t play the French either, foot injury. I don’t think you’ll struggle on the grass.”  
Roger bit on his lower lip. “You haven’t seen me play.”  
“I’ve seen *him* play. It’s like he’s playing on one leg. If you can’t beat him here you really should go home.”  
Roger’s expression was one of control tenseness, and Lleyton rolled his eyes. “Come the fuck to practice, Rodge. Please don’t make me practice with Tomic instead.”  
Roger grinned at that, and visibly relaxed. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Lleyton. Got a training court booked? I’ll call up Seve and Pierre.”  
“Yeah. Practice court 4.”  
Roger blinked at him. It was the smallest of courts with almost no room for fans. Rarely the kind of court he would practice on. Or Lleyton, the former Slam winner, for that matter. There was something lodged in the back of his throat at the consideration. Lleyton’s eyes were kind and it made it worse. He only nodded his assent. Tommy, reassured everything was well, glanced at him. “Lunch, on the grounds, in two hours?”  
Roger nodded, and found his voice again. “Yeah. See you later.”  
  


\------

 

Mirka quirked an eyebrow when she saw him with Lleyton, but she also seemed relieved. She sat with Seve and Pierre as they dissected the practice to pieces. Roger was happy not to hear what they were saying, because the serve was the only thing that worked, really. The court was small and seats were few, but the crowd was just massive. They were also chanting his name, which made him feel hugely relieved and somewhat wobbly at the legs. There was some scattered booing but it was shushed immediately. Tennis had a massive Omega following.  
He wanted to put up a good show, he wanted to look strong and unflappable but the shank level was high enough for his racquet to bounce against the ground more than once. And it was grass, and that was a big no-no.  
Seve came to him a couple of times with a soft suggestion, to which he grunted something in return. He played more and more aggressive, like he liked doing on the grass, but  the execution wasn’t there. His only consolation was that his legs, more or less, held up. He was not sorry to see Lleyton gesturing to take a break after 45 minutes of heavy hitting.  But Lleyton, instead of going to his own bench, sat next to Roger.

“Not your best, mate.” He said conversationally, as he flopped down with a sign.

“Rethinking Gael’s chances?” Roger said, nursing his water bottle, looking straight ahead, lest his irritation show on his face.  
“You don’t suck that bad”  
Roger turned to look at him. His camp gave them space, and the crowd was loud and large. They were not audible to many around them. “Yes I do. Why are you sugar-coating things? Is this some kind of a protective alpha thing you have, because frankly I’m just fed up with this crap.”  
Lleyton snorted. “Right. Let’s say protective alpha isn’t my default state. No worries, mate. I’m not Haas.” After a pause. “Or Roddick. He’s in sort of a mess, let me tell you. You fucked him up but good. I wish I could say I beat him in the French, but actually it was you.”  
He had Roger’s stunned eyes at that, for a moment he had forgotten it was Hewitt who played Andy in the first round of the French. “Don’t you think I know that?” His voice was an agonized whisper. “I didn’t know until - “ his voice drifted, and his eyes hardened. “What is it to you, you’re not Andy’s friend. You could barely stand each other most of your lives.”  
Hewitt bent down for an energy drink, Roger’s energy drink, because Hewitt’s were in his bag, next to the other bench, then shrugged. “Roddick and I used to be rivals for the big titles. Then you came along and it all became sort of pointless. I just felt sorry for the guy when I saw him in agony over you. Literal agony. He got a raw deal if it’s one of those unrequited bleeding heart syndromes.” He eyes Roger. “But it isn’t, is it? All it takes is to look at you to know how bad it is for you. You haven’t put the weight back after the heat.”

Roger’s mouth tensed. “I’m really not talking about it with you.”  
“It’s just that I’ve seen a bit of during the French, that’s all I’m saying. He’s crazy after you and you’re not indifferent.”  
Roger looked at him tiredly. “Are you seriously suggesting that I leave my wife after ten years because I accidently bonded with another alpha? That makes sense to you? If Bec ended up in heat while you were on tour, you’d think it’s normal that she bonded with another Alpha?”  
Hewitt shrugged. “It would have never happened. We don’t let our bond go cold. You don’t fiddle with things like that. You should have taken the emergency supressants and the ban, mate.”  
Roger felt the weight of those words slice deep into him. It wasn’t different than what he said to himself, but no one ever told him that, not even Mirka. No one else suggested that he had made a selfish choice. Hewitt looked at him for a moment then sighed. “I don’t mean to be a douche.”  
“You just can’t help yourself, is that it?” his voice was low and rough. “Why are we even having this discussion, is that why you called me a couple of weeks ago? To tell me to hook up with Andy? Why do you give a crap?”  
He looked at Lleyton, and was surprised to see the Aussie flush.  
“No. That wasn’t it. That was later, I was just- ” He paused, then turned his head to sniff at Roger’s neck. He didn’t have to do much, they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Just a casual shift of the head and sniff next to his throat.

Roger completely stiffened up. He moved away on the bench. His eyes darting around to see if anyone noticed it. “What are you doing?”  
“How come you never smelled Omega?” The Australian asked him curiously, like it was a normal thing to do what he did.  
Roger glowered at him. “I’m not in heat. Does Bec smell Omega when she’s not in heat?”  
“Well. She does a little bit. Sort of a sweet - I don’t know. Smell. Quality. More than you. You never really smelled of anything. I can tell with a lot of people what they are, but not with you, not really. Not ever. It was easy for people to assume you’re a Beta. Without a dominant scent.”  
Roger shrugged. “I have no idea whether or not I’m suppose to smell of anything, and don’t do that, what you just did. Geez, what are we, thirteen? You did that once, a long time ago and I hated it then, too.”  
Lleyton flushed. “Sorry. I was always curious about the smell thing.”  
Roger stared at him. “Always. What do you mean by always.”  
Leyton gave him a long look, and sighed. “Rodge. I didn’t ask you to practice to give you a hard time. Your business with Andy is your business. I have my opinions but it’s your life, even if I think you’re deluding yourself. I wanted to tell you - look, I’ve known you’re an Omega for years.”

Roger stared at him. “Wha- How could you know?” His eyes narrowed.

“I think Peter came to get Darren’s advice when he found out you were Omega. He wasn’t sure what to do. Darren thought you had loads of potential but that Peter should be spending his efforts elsewhere. He believed puberty would doom you, that you were emotional and volatile and I had way better chances of succeeding, because I was an Alpha. Peter got pretty angry with him, he believed in you. He thought you’d eventually be better than me and that being Omega shouldn’t matter. They kind of had a fight about it. Darren thought he was wasting him time, asked him why did Peter ask for his advice if he won’t take it, etc. They didn’t know I overheard them. And I never talked about it with Darren afterwards either. Ever.”

Roger buried his face in his hands. “God. God. Why did you never say anything?” His voice broke, because Peter.

Lleyton grimaced. “I wanted to prove Darren was right. That you would never make it. I was jealous. Hell, I was thirteen, mate. For a long while I did prove him right. I beat you on a regular basis when we were young and won my slams early.  Then you fucking grew up. I was there when you did it, I know it was all you. Same guy I’ve known since he was thirteen. I knew it wasn’t suppressants or any other drug. It was so gradual. You grew up. You had the right people in your corner, but you did the work yourself. I hated you a little for that but I was also a little amazed. I also realized all they say about Omega athletes was utter bullshit.”  
There was nothing to stop Roger’s eyes from welling up. He leaned back against the bench and thanked God he opted to play with a hat today, for the shadows on his face, though If anyone was taking close-up photos, they would catch it for sure. Speaking was beyond him though.  
Lleyton looked contrite when he realized he basically brought him to strong emotion while they were on public. He handed him a bottle of water. “Sorry. Maybe this was for another time and place.”  
Roger took a stuttering breath. “You think?” There was no anger in his voice though. “Thank you.”  
He said softly. “For being supportive. For telling me this. For - acting normal. The locker-room was… pretty weird, and Malisse was…”Roger wiped at his face and looked at Leyton. “Is that’s how it’s going to be from now on? Crude Omega jokes and people I used to have normal relationships with hitting on me like I’m open for business? Is that why Omega players never stay long in this business? Because they just can’t deal with it?”  
Hewitt flushed. “I don’t know. Maybe, but I don’t think it would happen to you. You command too much respect for that. Malisse didn’t mean it, he just tried to ease the tension and came out a jerk.”  
Roger snorted. “No fucking kidding.” He looked at Lleyton. “You think I over-reacted?”

Lleyton hesitated. “I think it’s up to you to decide what’s acceptable to you. But having a sense of humor about the situation wouldn't hurt, Roger. It’s not like you to chuck a wobbly over a joke. Even a bad one.”  
He looked up as Severin came over, looking concerned. “What’s up? What are you talking about?” He gave Lleyton a hard look. Roger touched the Swiss’s arm as he stood up, “It’s fine. Seve. We were just talking. All is well.”  
Severin looked at him in disbelief, as there was no mistaking the fact he got emotional. Roger smiled. “It’s not bad emotions.” He turned to Lleyton.”Come on, let’s play. Enough talking.”  
“Practice set.” Lleyton declared as he stood again, stretching his muscles.”Get ready for your ass to be owned, Feds.”  
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Roger muttered. “Too many people got stacks on it already.”  
Seve swerved at him in surprise, as the edges of Lleyton’s lips curved up. Roger cocked an eyebrow. “A sense of humor like that?”  
Lleyton smirked. “Or something.” He strode toward his baseline, bouncing on his heels, trying to get the blood going. “Come on. Feds. Your serve.”

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

He didn’t want to go have lunch with the guys. He wanted to watch Roger. He asked for an earlier match from the organizers and he got it. He somehow managed to win in a supremely ugly affair against Steve Darcis, no (yes) small matter, on grass. Haha. He wrapped up lunch, he skipped press, again (even though the demand for was just incredible and there would be no excuses during Wimbledon), he had his treatment over and done with and what he really wanted to do was to go to his hotel room, get under the blanket, nurse on beer, munch on a fucking Pizza and watch Roger without anyone looking at him moping at the screen.  
He wanted to study the contours of the Swiss lithe body, to watch him gracefully arch his back for a serve with that deep knee bend, to see him prepare for that razor-sharp forehand that had made his life a nightmare in a previous life. That’s how long ago it seemed to him.  
And then? He wanted to beat off and fall asleep. Because maybe, maybe, watching Roger doing what he loved the most would get him going. His body had been essentially dead for weeks now.

But Mardy sent Bob to keep him Company. And sending Bob usually meant business. Bob sat on his bedside, helped him nurse his beer and tsk a little with him when Roger took his jacket off, so you could see how thin he was. Andy breathed a sigh of relief at the Standing-O Roger received the moment he stepped on court. In that regard, nothing was substantially different. His own reception was substantially… cooler. That hurt. A lot. Especially at Queens. One of his best tournament. On grass. Of course, nobody likes an alpha homewrecker. Which he officially was. And all of the Fed fans who saw Roger’s rundown state would blame Andy for it, that’s for damn sure.

When Mirka showed up on screen, looking an unflappable as ever, if not more so, all Andy could mutter was ‘drop dead, you bitch’ because he might as well act the part of the homewrecker. That was sort of the point when Bob took the remote and flipped the TV off. “Woah. You’re just regressing, man. Come on, let’s go do something else that doesn’t involve you sitting here swearing at the TV like a fifties housewife about to go on Jerry Springer. Mike and Mardy and John are over at our place. We were going to play some video games before turning in. Don’t do that to yourself.”  
Andy reached out to snatch the remote. “You’re fucking kidding me? I want to watch him.”  
Bob grabbed Andy’s hand. “You’re obsessed. I know it’s natural with the bond and all, but you’re not making any attempt to break it. You’re wallowing in it. Roger’s out there playing with his wife watching and you’re here hugging your fucking pillow and swearing at the TV. Andy, you have to give yourself a chance to work through this.”  
“I’m out there playing! I played today. Right now, this is what I want to fucking do. It’s what - I was waiting for... fuck!” He threw the remote to the other side of the room. It hit the wall with a clang.  
Bob’s expression softened considerably as Andy’s voice died, Andy looked away. “Fuck. I’m pathetic. I’m beyond pathetic. I almost called him a thousand times today. This is all I have to look forward to. Watching him on the freaking TV. Fuck.”  
“Come hang out with us for a bit. It won’t be too long. We all have matches tomorrow. Don’t spend your evening watching - .” Bob’s eyes swished to the TV, where Roger misshit a smash - to miss out a breakpoint and flung his racquet to the ground in unusual anger.  
They both fell quiet for a moment as Roger let a string of oaths escape, in German, audible to the TV and audible to the audience. which wasn’t a great idea, considering he was playing in Halle. The crowd was stunned to silence, and the chair umpire did a small double take, then gave Roger a code violation. Roger barely lifted his head to apologize as he went off to his chair and sat in it. Kicking his legs around. Livid with his footwork. On the other side of the net, Monfils looked at him in an unconcealed interest and a slight smirk. Being on the other side of the net on those rare occasions Roger was behaving like a petulant child usually meant you had decent chances of winning the match.

There was no more talk about Andy not watching anymore. He and Bob watched the rest of the match together. Eating Andy’s leftover Pizza. Roger was playing badly, that’s for sure, but still managed to save himself with an absolute stomper of a serve each time. Bob made tiny, impressed sounds, no matter how many times he had seen Roger doing that before to helpless opponents.  
But that wasn’t what they were watching for. It made excellent television to watch Roger completely losing a battle with the infamous temper most forgotten ever existed with every unforced error he hit. He was grumpy, talking to himself, swearing and expanding much energy while accomplishing nothing. 

Bob glanced at Andy. “If he’s trying to go out there and prove he’s not an volatile Omega...he’s not doing a bang-up job, gotta tell you.”  
Andy’s jaw tightened. “Not you too. This isn’t about him being an Omega. I have lost my temper on court way worse than that. It’s just - unusual for him. That loss of control.”  
But why was Roger unable to control himself. That was the question Andy was asking himelf. The one he secretly hoped he had the answer for - maybe because Roger was too focused on controlling everything else, including every other emotion.

 

Bob was watching Roger carefully as well. At the change of ends, when the camera zoomed closer to him, he glanced back at Andy. “Your bleeding heart syndrome hasn’t flared up since the French?”  
Andy grimaced. “Why the fuck would you even bring that up? No. It hasn’t.”  
“What do you think is going on, then. You know. With them?”  
Andy shook his head. “I’m doing my best not to think about it.” He swallowed. “The problem is that it’s all I do.”  
“And you don’t want to - you know, give it a go yourself? How long do you plan to go celibate?”  
Andy’s eyes darted to Bob and then at the TV again. His voice was flat. “Tell me it isn’t Mardy putting you up to it. Because that’s fucking unattractive, and more than a little desperate.”  
Bob snorted and took another chug out of the beer. “It isn’t. I swear it. Yeah, he wants some ass - Figuratively speaking, I don’t know what you guys were doing while you were hooking up and I don’t want to know, but he honestly thinks getting laid can help you. And while I agree with that, I don’t think that should be with him, that’s for sure.” He grimaced. “In fact, pretty sure you need an Omega this time. I know that was never really your scene, but you won’t get this bond broken by hooking up with a beta or an alpha. It’s far too powerful.”  
Andy stared at the screen. Unseeing, really. “Bob. I honestly can’t.” His voice was flat. “The thought makes me physically ill. I haven’t had a hard-on in weeks, unless I’m thinking of Roger or imagining him in some way. I’ve tried. It’s not working.”  
Bob glanced at him at that. “Tell me that’s not how you planned to spend your evening.” At Andy’s expression, he gestured with his hand.  
Andy raised his beer up with an ugly smile. He was getting slightly tipsy. “Well, I was going to wait till the match is over. But to see him like that is depressing the hell out of me.”  
“Is it now?” Bob asked, smartly. “Even when you think it’s because of you? Even if you think he feels as crappy as you about your situation? Andy - do you have any clue what you will do during Wimbledon? You two obviously still feel the affects of the bond. What will happen when you see him? When you see them together on the ground? Can you control yourself? Will he?”

 

“Probably not so much, no - yeah!” He exclaimed, as Roger, aided by a wild error from Monfils, took the set and the match.” The Swiss clenched his fist in victory and a roar, the crowd responded. All and all, a familiar sight. And then Roger turned to his box in victory. Mirka was on her feet, clapping. And Andy’s heart clenched in actual pain. He groaned, gasping, at the protest of the bond.  
Bob, alarmed, stood up. “Andy, what the hel-” He shut the TV off. “Fuck man. This is bad. He wasn’t even doing anything. He was just - looking at her.”  
“Turn that back on!” Andy demanded. Now that he had seen Roger, not seeing him was painful, suffocating.  
Bob gave him the remote reluctantly. Actually, he nearly threw the thing at him.  
Andy made a grab for the remote before it hit the ground. “It just - caught me by surprise. Him. Looking at her like that.”  
Bob stared, and his tone was cautious. “Andy. She’s his fucking WIFE. They live in one house and probably sleep in the same bed. Maybe he’s sleeping with her, maybe he’s not, let’s assume he’s not because you would know. That’s still the goal he’s working toward. That is what she’s working toward. For your bond to weaken to the degree she could step in again. You have to help from your end, too. Or it will be that much tougher for everyone. The more you hold on to the bond, the tougher it will be on all of you. Andy. He has made his choice already.”  
Andy, weighted by this, looked back toward the screen, where Roger was packing up his stuff, and changed his shirt. He wanted to curl up with that image, relish on that coil of arousal, just there beneath the surface. Roger was too skinny by half, but all that did was push on all of Andy’s protective alpha buttons like crazy. 

Bob looked at him, and sighed. “Andy, stay with me.” Andy tore his eyes from the screen. “I hear you.” He said. “I can’t help it. I feel better just having watched him.” He smiled at Bob slightly. “Thanks for keeping me company, man. I appreciate this.”  
Bob hesitated, recognizing the dismissal. “You know. Mike and I are both Alphas. Identical twins are always one caste. It’s more of an issue with fraternal twins, you could have an alpha-omega combinations and that’s sometimes very difficult to deal with. Twins are close anyway, and when one is an alpha and the other is an Omega, then developing two independent lives is difficult. Still, alphas got a protective nature and we’re still very protective of each others. So, I get you somewhat, okay? I won’t push, but you need to try and get back to normal. Watching Roger’s matches is not the way, man. You’re latching on to the bond and he’s trying to break though. You’re hurting all of you.”  
“It’s not the bond.” Andy said softly. “I’m - in love with him. Maybe I always was, a bit. I can’t let go of that. It wasn’t created during the heat. It started much earlier.”  
Bob’s expression was hard. “You have to. It will wreck up your life, Andy. It’s wrecking it right now. And at the end you won’t have him, and if you will - nothing good will come out of it.”  
Andy looked at him, his eyes narrowed, a bit. “Why don’t you tell me to go for it? Why don’t I have a single friend telling me to go after what I want instead of stepping back? Rodge and I obviously have something that clicks together, but everyone are hell-bent on breaking us up. Heck, fucking Hewitt was more supportive than you all.”  
“Breaking you up? There’s no ‘you’. There’s a bond, yeah. But there’s no relationship. Bonds sometimes work like that. Created on hormones and not much else. If he was a single guy I’d be singing a different tune, for sure, but I don’t think he will ever leave Mirka. And I also can’t see how you can be together and have your careers. And I don’t see how you have much in common, anyway. Tell me how this works, Andy. Really, you tell me. The more you hang on the harder it would be. For him, as well.”  
Andy’s pause was long at that. “That’s what he said. That last day, when we talked about it.” He finally said. “I just know how I feel right now. I’m a guy who acts on his feelings, but as long as I believe he wants me to stay away, I will, no matter how hard it is. The last thing I want to do is to wreck up his life.”  
Bob looked marginally encouraged by this. “I’m glad to hear you say that, man. But if that’s really your decision you need to get a fucking life. After the tournament is over, let’s go out, find you someone. At least give it a go.”  
Andy regarded his feet. There was nothing about the idea that sounded appealing to him. “I’ll think about this. Okay?”  
Bob sighed. There was no point to it. He got up. “Okay. I’m heading back. It’s getting late anyway.” He squeezed Andy’s shoulder, but didn’t offer any additional words of wisdom.

Once Bob was gone, Andy got up and headed for bed, leaving his clothes scattered around the room. He collapsed under the covers. He didn’t put anything on, which wasn’t something he was used to doing, but definitely did that now.  
He sighed, then rolled over to his stomach. He closed his eyes, exhausted, slightly drunk, somewhat aroused. Bringing Roger’s image to his mind was frighteningly easy. A rush of photos, images, sensations filled his head, pumped blood into his dick. He rolled his hips experimentally, and gasped at the harsh sensation of arousal. More than that, he was already on the edge and cranked. Fuck. That wasn’t going to take long at all. He grinded against the bed and groaned at how sharp it was, how good it felt, how lonely it felt. His fingers clasped the bedding hard as his hips found a rhythm, he could feel the tremor starting his his toes, traveling up his legs, settling in his balls.  
He came in a rush of sensation and pumped his hips. Fuck.Fuck… fu--ck.  
This wasn’t going anywhere good.

 

\-------

Roger had won, but just barely. Monfils was simply not fit. He played for appearance money and it showed. Still, the match went to two tiebreakers and he almost lost. His serve saved him, just like in practice, but footwork was - not good. Not sharp. Not strong. Strangely, he found it hard to get used to the movement on the grass and every muscle in his legs and lower back screamed for mercy. What was worse, had utterly lost control on court. Swearing and kicking balls around, in a way he hasn’t done in years, since his teens. There was no filter at all. He couldn’t control it. He apologized to Monfils at the net, flushed.  
The Frenchmen grinned, amused, and patted his back. He was not bothered at all, maybe even relieved he wasn’t the only clown on court that day. Fuck. So much for cool and collected Federer. The rest of the tour will be watching that with interest. What an idiot he was, to lose it like this.  
His team rejoiced with him at the victory, but the strain and confusion was clearly showing on their faces, not so much because of the quality of his tennis, that was no surprise, but because of his temper outbursts.  
He was almost ashamed to look at them. No one said a word to him. But he saw the reproach and concern in Mirka’s eyes, especially. This was too obvious for her to ignore. Just before he got into the shower, he stopped Pierre with a hand to his arm. “I hurt like crazy.” he said softly.  
Pierre’s concerned eyes were on him at that. “Your back?”  
“Everywhere. Legs, thighs. You name it, it’s sore. More than normal.”  
“Okay. Let’s do a quick cool down and then something more serious back at the house, okay?”  
Roger nodded. He wanted out of there.

For the first time since the French, Stephane was the one working on him. He was not there during Hamburg due to a flu, and of course Roger hadn’t played afterwards. But there was another reason. Stephane was the only Alpha on his team and massage required an intimate touch and he just wasn’t comfortable with that.  
But he liked Stephane, Stephane was great at his job, he was a part of the team, and was he honestly going to fire the man for being an alpha? It never bothered him before. His reaction was irrational at best. Moreover, when it came to his lower back, he didn’t trust the tournament’s physiotherapists. Stephane knew every nook of his body.  
So why the hell was he lying there tense and miserable?  
It took Stephane maybe 20 seconds of his hands on his back to take notice something was wrong. He removed his hands from Roger and paused. “Roger.”  
“Hm?.”  
“What’s going on? You do a full body clench whenever I touch you. Are you hurting that badly? Tell me, I don’t want to aggravate anything I’m not aware of.”  
Roger took the longest of pauses and shook his head. “No. It’s not that. It’s - just stuff that I’m trying to work through. Nothing to do with you.”  
Stephane said, hesitatingly. “You know. It’s not uncommon after a heat. When the therapist is an alpha and the patient is an Omega. To be a bit uncomfortable, that is.”  
Roger’s head twisted up. Relieved he did not have to explain. “You worked on me plenty of times. It never felt odd like that, and my heat was a while ago already. How can it be related?”  
Stephane’s expression was serious. “It’s not the same. I suspect the fact there’s a fresh, new bond with a new partner who doesn’t really know me has a lot to do with it. Mirka knew me and approved of me before I became your physiotherapist. Andy - does not.“  
Roger took that in and rested his head back in the place. Happy Stephane was matter of fact about it. “Okay. Suggestions?”  
Stephane put his hand on Roger’s back again. “Nothing special. You just need to get used to me again. Try to relax and I’ll go slow, okay? Communicate if I’m doing anything that bothers you.”  
Roger let out a wry sound. “I suck at communication lately - oh, .God.” He tensed as Stephane’s hands moved over a particularly tender spot in his lower back. He exhaled. “That Goddamn back.”  
“Yup. It’s tied up in knots. Breath. In and out.”  
Roger gripped the bed as stephane’s capable worked over the knots in his back. The pain was a familiar distraction. Slowly, slowly, his body began to somewhat unwind. Stephane stopped. “Glutes now, okay?”  
Roger gave a small nod and yelped as Stephane pulled the towel down and got right to it. Delving his fingers right where it was the sorest. Stephane snorted. “Whinging.”  
“Fuck off.” Roger mumbled. “Ughh. That hurts Goddamit.”  
“What the hell did you do to yourself during the break, hm?” Stephane asked fondly, working more freely now that Roger was loosening and no longer so jumpy. “Who gave you treatment when I was away? They did a crummy job. This tension isn’t from today. It’s weeks of tension and tight muscles without any proper release.”  
Roger’s mouth opened on a groan. “Ah - I couldn’t. God - really let anyone touch me.”  
Stephane frowned. “That Malinda girl that does you in Switzerland is a Beta.”  
“She’s on maternity leave. Her replacement was - also a Beta, but I didn’t - really know her. Fuck. Steph, Goddammit. Ease up, I’m not kidding.” he groaned as Stephane worked around his tailbone, tensing and flinching away. For some reason, he couldn’t take the pain, which was ludicrous because he was a tennis player and this was a sports massage. Come on. It’s suppose to hurt.  
Stephan eased up a touch but grimaced.“You want to play tomorrow? Get low for a dropshot? You ass is like one big stiff brick. I’m trying to loosen you up a bit or you won’t be able to move You have to unwind, relax and let me work, half this tension is mental, Roger.”  
“I know.” Roger said softly. “Unless you can fix my life, I don’t know how that’s going to improve any time soon.” There was a big lump in his throat and the pain didn’t make it better.  
Stephane stopped, then eased the touch considerably. “Okay. Another tactic. This is where you are the most sore. So, I will do your legs now, then come back to the glutes and back, okay? Maybe that would be better.”  
He draped a towel on Roger’s back, and started working on Roger from the legs up. 

 

After another fifty minutes, the agony slowly melted into a vague aching discomfort. Eventually, Stephan touched his shoulders. “Hey. We’re done with the back for now. It needs more work but I can only do damage from now on. Turn around.”  
Roger complied and rolled over with a sigh, he squinted at Stephane as he adjusted the draping. “Neck now.”  
Roger gave a sleepy nod. In spite of the pain, exhaustion and his body being forced to relax have began lulling him to sleep. He relished the feeling of Stephan’s fingers at the base of his neck. “Ah. God.”  
“The muscles here are like a rock, Roger. Is that good?”  
“Ye-ah.”  
He could feel Stephane completely avoid the bond bite, whose fading marks were still showing, if you knew what you were looking for. Roger blinked his lips. “Thanks for not saying anything,” He said softly. ”Pierre filled you in?”  
“Unless you want to talk about it, we’re not talking about it. Don’t talk. Breathe. Relax. Keep your eyes closed.”  
Roger sighed, and gave a slight nod. He did NOT want to talk about it. He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to lie there and feel the muscles in his neck re-worked into putty and being forced to relax.  
Shortly afterwards he could smell the scent of another type of oil in the room. He opened his eyes, only to feel Stephane's hands, covering his eyes.“We’re not done.” The man said gently. “Keep your eyes closed.”  
Roger let out a huff of a breath. “Really? God. I must look a total mess to you.”  
Technically, facial massage was just for enjoyment and definitely didn’t have anything to do with a sports massage. So technically, it wasn’t really in Stephan’s work description and he only did that when Roger was particularly unhappy or tense. Like now, for instance.  
“I expect a raise.” Steph’s voice was wry.  
Roger groaned at the feeling of Stephan’s large hands on his face and then finally completely melted. He cleared his mind from anything and just focused on the blessed gentle pressure on his scalp and face. His mouth gaped involuntarily. The fog in his brain thickened. Few moments afterwards, he was sound asleep.

Stephan continued for several more moments, even after Roger’s breathing has eased up, and removed his hands. He draped a blanket over Roger’s body and left the room, closing the door behind him. The team was waiting for them with take-out food. Mirka was curled up in the corner of the room, quiet, on edge.  
Pierre frowned at him as he washed his hands at the sink. “Where is Roger? He has to eat.”  
“Fell asleep during. We’ll wake him up in a bit. Let him sleep for a little while.” He turned around and frowned at Pierre, troubled. “He’s just a mess physically. His back is one big solid knot and he’s thin as I’ve ever seen him. Don’t know how he can play like this.” He looked around the room. “I don’t know, does he seems normal to you all? He doesn’t to me. He’s down and depressed. Should he even be playing?”  
Pierre and Mirka exchanged looks and Pierre sighed. “I don’t think any of us were for it. At the end of the day it’s his choice, he has gotten doctor’s approval at my request and I honestly believed he was improving. Then today happened.” His voice drifted. “I agree he didn’t look good at all.”  
Stephane frowned at him in dismay. “Improving? Fucking Christ. In comparison to WHAT? This is not the Roger I know. He hasn’t smiled once since I’ve been here.” He looked at Mirka, his look both angry and pitying. “What the hell are you doing?”  
She frowned at him. ”He’s dealing with a lot, so am I, it’s not easy either of us. Your judgement is unfair.”  
The look Stephane gave her was dismayed. “You’re blind if you don’t see what state he’s in. You can’t step away from a new bond if you’re emotionally starved. I know how emotional starvation looks like on Omegas and you have a prime example in the other room over there. You’re lucky Roddick doesn’t put up a serious fight, that’s all I have to tell you.You got a chance and you’re throwing it away like a fucking chared toast. From one alpha to another, try harder. Much harder. As hard as it is, and I know first hand how hard it can be. I’ve walked this road before.”  
Mirka stood up from the sofa and glared at him. “Right. I’d like to see you in my shoes. Trying and never knowing where the line is.” Her voice shook. “You’re a hypocrite and I don’t have to listen to this.”  
Stephane took a step back. “Mir, for Goodness sake. I’m trying to be a friend to you both but it’s his health I’m worried about.”  
“And you think I’m not?! I’ve just had it!” She cried out, tears of anger in her eyes. “With the zero support I’m getting from the lot of you. Roger and I are trying to work it out, stop interfering and tell me how I should react to things you are clueless about, I-”  
“What the hell?” They all turned to Roger, who stood at the entrance to the treatment room, wrapped in a bathrobe. His hair was mussed, oily and tousled, and he squinted groggily at the glare in the room after the relative darkness of the treatment room.  
Everyone fell silent. Roger’s eyes roamed around the room. He advanced a few steps, then leaned on the big island in the middle of the kitchen. The take-out food was scattered around, waiting for the party to sit and eat. He sighed wearily. “Guys.” He paused, considering his words carefully. “How about you head to your own rooms, okay? It’s been a really long day.”  
Pierre and Seve got up, but Stephane turned at him, and pushed his dinner of a gallon of Tomato-basil Pasta in Roger’s direction. “Eat it. For fuck’s sake. You look like shite.” Roger stopped the Pasta with a finger before it skidded off the island and glared sharply at Stephane. “You know, when we both agreed a just little while ago that we don’t really need to talk about it, I assumed you meant that there will be no further discussion in general. I didn’t think you’ll go running to spew off your thoughts to everyone. You want to talk about something, you’re worried about me or whatever, talk to me, okay? Don’t leave me asleep on the table and make your opinion known elsewhere. What’s going on with me is my own responsibility, all the way. You haven’t been here enough to criticize anyone’s judgement, and some things you don’t get to sound off about, ever. Leave Mirka alone, our relationship is off limits for you to discuss, do we understand each other?”  
Stephane looked at him defiantly, biting the inside of his cheek. “I’m just saying it like I see it, Roger. Like it or not, I don’t think you should play here. I don’t think you’re okay physically, I don’t think you’re okay emotionally, you’re underweight, you’re under-everything. You’re an Omega on a bond withdrawal who is trying to play a professional sport and I don’t see it working well. It hasn’t worked well. It should have been a 6-1, 6-1 score vs. Monfils but you nearly lost. Bond withdrawals are hard enough on an alpha, I’ve gone through it once myself, and it takes an incredible toll on an Omega. Omegas can play professional sports just like any other alpha, you know I believe that, but they need to take extra care of themselves and right now, either you can’t or you won’t. Anyway, Pierre and I can do a lot but we’re not fucking magicians, and your body is waging war against your decision to play here. Your serve working was the only thing that saved you. And I think you’re insane to think about Wimbledon, unless you want to shut down for the entire fucking season. You wouldn’t last in a best of five.”  
Roger gave him a long look, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Are you just about done now?”  
Stephane’s mouth quirked grimly. “Yes. Though I wish you would listen.”  
“We all wish for things we can’t have. I hope you got it off your chest.” He said shortly and darkly. “See you guys in the morning. Whoever decides over night that they know more about me than I do, is welcome to go the fuck back to his home on the first flight, first thing before breakfast!” He panted.  
Stephane glared back, then turned and was out the door, slamming the door behind him as he left, leaving the echo of Roger’s shrill voice in its wake. Roger winced. Fuck, didn’t this came out harsh, childish and petulant. 

He waited until they all had left before he turned to his wife. Mirka was standing in the corner of the room, watching him, her expression curious.  
“What?!” He had snapped at her, because he was tired and irritable and there he was defending her and she was looking at him like she had never seen him before.  
Her mouth quirked a bit. “Leave Mirka alone? Like Leave Britney alone?”  
“God.” He groaned. “Seriously? I mean - seriously? You gonna bring up Britney Spears right now? Don’t make fun. It’s not the least funny.“  
Her face curdled. “Do you think I find any of this funny, Roger?! But he’s right about one things - I haven’t seen you laugh in weeks. I was just - ” She sighed. “I tried to make you laugh. I don’t know what to do any more. I’m sick of making you upset, and I’m sick of crying myself, and I’m sick of other, great many things.”  
Roger moved a hand through his hair, grimacing at the state of it. “I know. Shit. How long have you two being going at it?”  
“A couple of minutes. He was just done with you. He’s right, though.” She said, softly. “As much as I hate to admit it.”  
“About whom?” Roger grumbled. “You, or me?!”  
She sighed. “Both, I guess. You’re not really fit to play, and I’m not stopping you. And generally speaking, I’m terrible wife and an even worse alpha.”  
“Don’t say that.” He said, his voice considerably softer, because she’s been trying and he knows that.  
“I am starving you emotionally.” She said softly. “I know you’re not getting what you need from me, not even close. I’m not making a claim on you, because can’t give me that reassurance it would even work, so...” She shrugged miserably, as he looked away from her. “You understand me, but you also begrudge me for keeping my distance. So we’re stuck in this… rut.” She reached out for his cheek. “And I could make a lot of justifications for myself if I didn’t feel like I was seriously putting your health at risk in the process.”  
Roger shrugged sheepishly. “Stephane was exaggerating, he was just - he just hasn’t seen me. It’s been a bit of a shock for him. And I was - I was sort of whining to him that I was sore.”  
Her expression was one of complete exasperation. “He wasn’t exaggerating. Roger. That’s just it. He wasn’t. You’re miserable and I know exactly how sore you were. I saw how were walking after the match and I saw how you were playing the match and I saw how you behaved during the match. You’re not fine, and I don’t know how to help you. I wonder if I - even can. Would it help you if I put my arms around you, or will your bond with Andy protest? Do you want to talk about how you feel, or will that just makes it harder for us to pretend we’re making any sort of progress here? Do you want me to be aggressive with you, to make a claim, or to give you time? Do you want to give me any direction at all, or are you content to wait for me to develop my mind reading skills, because let me tell you, it’s not working so great, I-”  
She hushed as he put a hand over her mouth, and lowered his forehead to hers. “You’re right. About everything, alright?” He was just tired, at this point. He took a deep breath. “The truth is, I don’t know what to do. So you call the shots from here on. Whatever you want to do, whatever direction you want to take it. us. If I can, we do it. I promise. Mir, it’s all I can say.”  
She searched his face. Standing there, in his half-opened bathing rob, his skin still glistening from the massage oils, he looked amazing, but absolutely exhausted.  
“We eat.” She said softly. “And then we go to bed. We can’t keep having these discussions when you’re barely awake. Sit. I’ll heat up the food.”  
Roger hesitated, before walking over to the sofa and sinking on it with a sigh. Actually, for a change, he was famished. When he got his bowl of Pasta, he pretty much inhaled it in two scoops. When he looked up, he saw Mirka looking at him with a small smile. He wiped his mouth, feeling awkward. That was a bit crass. “Sorry. I’m - “  
She rolled her eyes at him, and handed him a second bowl, then sat next to him, and had her own. Eating together, just the two of them, felt nice.  
When she was done eating, Mirka leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m glad you kicked everyone out.” She said softly. “I know that what we usually do after victories, but - spending time just with you feels right. And it feels like you’re talking to everyone but me sometimes.”  
Roger leaned a bit backwards on the couch, pulling her to lean against him, relishing on the closeness. “Do you want me to do something about it?” He asked her seriously.”We can do something different. I could ask everyone to - go home. For Halle and Wimbledon, at least. It’s nothing we haven’t done before on tour.”  
She hesitated. “No. I know - you need them here, Pierre, especially. More ‘us’ time would be nice, though. And if you could actually talk to me about things, it would be good, too. Because you haven’t let me in at all.”  
He sighed. “I’m trying. I know I’m doing this all wrong. I know.”  
“You could start by telling me about the match. Or what is wrong with you physically.” She tilted her head to give him a pointed look. “Those are easy enough subjects, or should be.”  
Roger sighed. They actually weren’t. “You saw the match.” He shrugged. “I was terrible.”  
“I’m not talking about your game. I’m talking about sitting there watching a teenage version of Roger Federer playing a match. Like something out of your parents stories. Even I never seen you behave like on court. I’m not trying to give you a hard time, I’m just trying to understand.”  
Roger fiddled with his the knot on his robe. It was a bit frayed in the end. “I wish - I could explain it. I had no control over my mouth. Some stuff happened in the locker-room I haven’t told you about, either. I don’t know, I think I expected - more support, maybe. I think I just - maybe overly sensitive. Lleyton came up, that was nice. Malisse was a bit of a douche, but maybe I just took him the wrong way. Tommy’s always supportive, though…”  
He hushed. He didn’t tell her how weird the vibe was with Tommy ever since the heat. Her eyes were on him, though, and she smiled a small smile. “I know he’s been a bit overbearing. Sarah mentioned it.”  
Roger looked at her, startled. “Tell me that’s not been an issue.” The fact Sarah has noticed Tommy’s intense protectiveness of him that was both disconcerting and upsetting to him.  
Mirka waved her hand, and didn’t seem fussed or phased about it. “We were joking about it, actually.” At Roger’s disturbed expression, she frowned. “What happened with Tommy that it bothers you this much?”  
“I don’t like him treating me like an Omega needing to be protected.” Roger grumbled. “That’s not his job. Be my friend. That’s it. He’s always known I was an Omega. Why the change? I really wish he hadn’t come to check up on me during my heat. That’s when the whole goddamn thing started.”  
Mirka frowned at him, and he suddenly realized it was possible she hadn’t known this. “I thought you knew. He and Sarah came to check - that I was alright. That first night. He was using emergency suppressants. But they wore off fast, so he - he had to go. I wish he hadn’t come at all. That’s what created all the weirdness.”  
Mirka grimaced. “Oh. I knew they had come to see you. I didn’t know he has had to leave. I guess that wasn’t smart.”  
“Yeah. Well.” Roger murmured. “I don’t think any of us are going to get extra grade for ‘smart’ for our actions that week.”  
“Did you try to talk to him about it?”  
Roger snorted. “That’s just going to make the whole thing unbelievably awkward, I don’t know how aware he is of what he’s doing.” He sighed and shook his head. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about that. I just hope he can snap out of the this protectiveness mode because it’s driving me insane.” He wiped at his face and looked at the excess oil on his hands. “God. I’m all - sticky from the massage oil.”  
Her eyes travelled across his body, where the too-short robe settled on his thighs, glistening from the massage oil, the lazily wrapped knot in the front. The generous triangle of chest and chest hair. Their eyes met, and Roger found himself flushing under her gaze.  
Mirka bit her lip. “I - don’t know whether to be upset or pleased that you can still flush when I look at you after all those years.”  
“It’s just that sometimes I still don’t get what there is look at.”  
She gathered her knees close to her body. Her smile to him was raw at the edges. “Huh. Most people wonder the same when they see you with me.”  
His expression curdled. “Mirka.”  
“You know it’s true. And now that they know you are an Omega they probably ‘get it’ even less.”  
“No. I don’t know it’s true. And I never thought this, not a day in my life.” He cradled her face in his hand. “You know nothing about what’s going on has anything to do with you. You did nothing wrong. What we screwed up we did so together and It’s not your fault.”  
She leaned into his hand, then buried her face against his chest. He pulled her closer, then gathered her tightly in his arms. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”  
She was crying hard against his chest, in heaving sobs, and so was he, because he couldn’t tell her that everything was going to be alright.  
Eventually, his hand tightened in her hair. “Do you want to go to bed?” He whispered. She raised a bleary head and nodded, sniffing hard. She got up, her expression wounded. He got up after her, and enveloped her in his arms from behind. She leaned back for a second, then slowly extracted herself, and turned. “Go take a shower.” She said, matter of fact and calm. “You should have gone to bed a long time ago. I have some Emails to go over.”  
Roger sighed deeply and stretched, groaning. “Yeah. Okay.” He gave her a somber look. “Will you be coming to bed?”  
She bit her lip, and took a shuddering breath. “In a little while. I need - I just really need a moment.”  
Roger nodded, and averted his face as he dragged himself to the bathroom. The hot water felt good against his skin, the water pressure was fantastic and he aimed it so it landed against his sore shoulder. As he closed his eyes, he was suddenly struck with the strongest sensation of Andy. He shoved it away brutally, violently, he was NOT going to do that today. Enough was enough. It was time to put a stop to it.


	13. Chapter 13

“At the end, you were right about playing Halle.” Seve said cheeerfully, as dumped Roger’s bag on the floor in the All England Club members' locker rooms unceremoniously, earning a lift of the eyebrow from Roger. “You’re playing better, you’ve finally gained some weight, you’ve had a good practice today. I’m more optimistic than I was a week ago.”  
Roger snorted, munching on a snack. “I’m always right, you should know this by now.” He kept his face averted, because he didn’t want Severin to see through his lie. It wasn’t playing Halle which made Roger look better at practice today.

He lost in Halle’s quarters to a well-playing Kohlschreiber while playing a pretty decent match, and yes - he felt more connected to his tennis than he was before Halle, due to good practice and eating better.  
Moreover, this was Wimbledon. The weather was good, the tournament lovely sites of splashes of purple and green greeted him back like an old friend. He always felt at home here. And things with Mirka have reached a level of - very careful and delicate understanding of what they could do and what they couldn’t do.

 

But that’s not why he was feeling more - alive.  
The moment his plane landed in London he could feel it. Andy’s relative proximity, at the same continent as himself, pulsing in his bond, like a tight spot, and with it an ache he worked hard to push down, but at the same time brought him a sense of energy and purpose and hope.  
He couldn’t explain it or define it, it was just there, and it has lent a touch more pace to his shots today, his legs felt a little lighter on the court. 

Things weren’t all rosy, though.  
The British media was all over him. From the moment he landed on British soil, he was hit with questions about his caste and the heat he shared Andy. He had to work very hard to deflect those.

He had the supervisor with him in all interviews, and whenever a question crossed a line, the staff intervened on his behalf. He felt shame that after doing media for so many years, he required the help of a Wimbledon staffer to give the journalists the brush-off, but it could not be helped, they were relentless. 

The fact Andy continued to refuse interviews in Queens (accumulating fines left and right) left Roger as the only source of information available to the British media bulldogs.  
The caste distinction in England ran a lot deeper than it had in Switzerland, and Roger had broken all of the rules of what was considered normal for an Omega playing a professional sport. After all, the ban on Omega being members of the All England club was only lifted some 25 years ago.

He closed his ears to the endless chatter, but it was hard to escape during his press.

Then, Andy lost in the Semi Finals at Queens, against Andy Murray.  
That meant he was already heading to Wimbledon, and Roger had no idea how to handle it. It could happen any moment. At any time, Andy could walk through that door and he would see him.  
He was stupid not to talk to Andy before, not to touch base, they should have set up some basic ground rules. Do we talk in private? Do we talk in public? What do we do if we run into each other in the locker-room? Or at the dining room? Or on Court? How the fuck are you, man? I’ve missed you more than I dared to admit, including to myself.

 

“Roger.” Seve said, who was apparently reading his mind.  
“Yeah.” He was aware his voice came out distracted and dazed. Seve sighed. “I know you told Pierre and I to mind our own business, and we’re trying to. But - do you have some sort of a - plan, here?”  
Roger looked at him for a moment, then lowered his head “No.” He knew what Seve was asking. “Not really. I will have to cope and take things as they come, that’s all, I - ”

He stopped as he saw Seve’s expression as the Swiss looked at someone behind his shoulder, frowning. Even though his heart did a silly little somersault in his chest, he knew it wasn’t Andy even before he turned around.

He wasn’t wrong. It was Novak who entered the locker-room, flanked by Marian, his long-time coach.  
The Serb stopped dead on his tracks when he saw Roger and went a little pale under his tan, lowering his eyes.  
Roger wasn’t quite sure how he should react, he hasn’t given Novak much thought at all since his heat, and the Serb never played the grass lead up tournaments before Wimbledon.  
Roger stared back at the man for a moment, then turned his back to him. He did not want him to come over. He wasn’t in the mood at all for whatever he had to say.  
Novak, as per the course for him, could never take a hint. He approached Roger tentatively, his jaw tense. “Roger. Can we talk?”

Roger was just happy he hasn’t tried to shake his hand. He sighed. “Fine,” He said shortly, because there was no way to actually avoid the current number 2# ranked player in the world. “But this is not the time or place, Novak.”  
The Serb looked younger than his twenty-four years as he studied the floor. “Okay, when then?”  
Roger hesitated. “Later tonight, I guess. Are you staying at the village?”  
Novak nodded and Roger shrugged. “After dinner time, then. I will give you a call. I’m around there, too.”  
The serb gave him a shaky nod, then moved away, deeper into the locker-room, and out of Roger’s line of sight.  
Roger’s brow furrowed at Marian Vadja, who approached him. “Roger,” The older man said, reaching out his hand. “How are things?”  
Both men shook hands, and Roger frowned at him. “You want to give me a heads up on this, or what?” He tilted his head to where Novak stalked off to. “What could he possibly want?”  
“Roger, don’t look for anything sinister. He just wants to apologize.”  
Roger sighed. “Does Novak realize that I was inside the room and he was outside of it, and whatever he said or did the night I went into heat - I only have a sketchy description of it and maybe I’d like to keep it this way? Honestly, tell him I don’t want to know and I’d like to move on and act like this never happened.”  
The older Serb smiled like someone who wasn’t surprised to hear that. “I told him that you would probably say this. But he wants to put things right, so there would be no awkwardness between you two.”  
Roger’s face twisted in disgust. “For whose benefit? Mine or his?” He inhaled deeply. “Never mind. I guess I will find out tonight. Just for the record, I’m not begrudging him that he’s an alpha and that he had a reaction to my heat, frankly I want to know as little as possible about this, I mind him running his goddamn mouth.” He closed his eyes against the surge of uncontrollable anger running through him. So no, maybe he wasn’t ready to move on after all.

Marian gave him a somber look. “I understand your anger, but an Omega’s heat can affect different alphas in different ways. He wasn’t in full control of himself.”  
Roger huffed, shortly. “I know how heats work, thanks, but the fact that he has no control to speak of should worry the hell out of him, and both him and I have a lot to thank Rafa for.“  
Marian frowned. “He didn’t escalate the situation alone, you know. In the locker-room. Andy did his share of the talking. It wasn’t all Novak’s fault.”  
Roger’s face curdled. “He talked too much way before he saw Andy in the locker-room, and maybe should have been smart enough not to press all of Andy’s buttons right after he spent my heat with me. An Alpha should know better than that.” He sighed, and softened his voice. “Look, If Novak wants to make peace, I’m willing, but if he has issues with Andy he should take them up directly with him, just please - spare me the public scenes. I’ve had enough of those.”  
Marian raised his brow at Roger, who was losing patience by the second. “You’re gonna tell Andy that, too? Because last time he saw Novak, he assaulted him. I’d like to avoid a repeat of that.”  
“What I tell Andy or not tell Andy is my business. I know that Andy hit him and I can only imagine what he said to deserve this. If Novak doesn’t want any issues with Andy he should maybe stay out of his way, I know they’re both seeded but it’s a big locker-room. If Novak wants to talk to me and make amends, I’m always ready for that, just not on the grounds and definitely not in the locker-room, I’m done having my personal life out for all to see. Surely you can understand that.”  
Marian raised his hands defensively. “Alright. I hear you, I will pass the message on. Good to see you back.”  
Roger’s body uncoiled slightly at the friendly words. “Thank you.”  
Roger watched the older man as he went after Novak. He turned to Severin and shook his head. “I don’t know why I agreed to doing this.”  
“You don’t have to talk to Djokovic, you know.” Seve said, looking at Roger earnestly, his expression serious. “You’re not obligated to do anything you don’t want to.”  
Roger waved his hand dismissively. “I can’t - not talk to him. He’s a tennis player on the tour and a big rival for me. If we don’t talk, it’s a big story, and I - ”

 

“Hey, Fed.”  
Roger, frowning, turned at Sergiy Stakhovsky’s voice, his stomach turning a bit. He hasn’t seen the Ukrainian earlier and the infuriating man always had something to say.  
He took a deep breath, readying himself for an annoying encounter with the slender Alpha, and put on his best benign expression. “Sergiy, Hi. What’s up? What are you doing here?” As soon as he said it, he realized how it came out, as if the man did not belong in a locker-room reserved for the top seeds and former champions.  
Sergey frowned slightly at him. “I came to look for you. I texted you up last week, man. Nada. You just ignored me.”  
Roger blinked. He now remembered a text, which he did ignore. “Sorry. It was - look, I had a tough month. I kinda ignored everybody. Focused on the tennis. I - it wasn’t - personal.”  
Sergey looked at him expectantly, but with a clear sign of frustration. “It’s just that you didn’t send anything about the meeting. People were coming up to me and asking me about it. Why me I don’t know.”  
Roger squinted at him, his mind blank.“What meeting?”  
The Ukrainian looked at Roger as if he had grown two heads, and smirked. “You forget? The player council meeting, Mr. *President”.  
Roger’s eyes widened then closed in horror. “Ah Shit.” He swore, mortified. “I - I forgot.”  
There were a dozen things he was suppose to take care of before the next meeting, and he had done nothing to turn the meeting tomorrow into something productive. He moved his hand over his face, he couldn’t even remember the topics they were meant to be discussing. Something about 250s tournaments disappearing all over the States. And there was something about a new doping regulation he couldn’t recall, and fuck, The two years ranking system Rafa was still harping about...He had nothing new to say about any of that, and he hasn’t done - or asked anyone, to do any kind of proper research for him. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. It wasn’t like him to drop the ball like that.

At the expression on Roger’s face, Sergey grimaced. “I figured out you wouldn’t have dealt with any of that. You usually send all those stuff and action items and nag people to send in their questions in advance. Roger, we won’t meet next until September. Nothing could be accomplished until next year. If you can’t do this anymore, you should have told someone.”  
Roger moved an agitated hand across his face. “No no. That’s not it. Shit. I know. I’m sorry. But Sergiy, you live in this world, you know I had - lots and lots of stuff going on. Why didn’t you talk to somebody? Why not call someone on my team? Why not to call Rafa? That’s why he’s vice president for, you know.”  
Sergey cocked a brow. “Nadal’s ^your* vice president. You want to re-delegate authority, you talk to him yourself. Me, I don’t want to talk to him too much. Anyway, did you even see Nadal lately? You are out of touch. He wants out.”  
Roger focused startled eyes at him. “Out of tennis?”  
Sergey snorted loudly. “You should be so lucky. Out of the the Player Council, idiot. He thinks it’s a lot of hassle and in the end we all do what you say. But who knows, maybe he’s had a change of heart, because now his chances of presidency are bigger. He told me at the beginning of clay season that he wasn’t interested in staying on the the council for another year. He was planning to tell you for a long time, but then you went AOL.”

Roger’s face twisted. “Nice being the last to know.” He paused. “Do you really think I don’t listen to him?”  
Sergey shrugged. “No one ever accepts his ideas, least of all you. I think he’s grown tired of it.”  
Roger groaned in exasperation. “Oh come on. You want a shot clock, same as me. He doesn’t. His idea about protected ranking for two years - I just can’t support that. The ranking should reflect what is, not what was relevant a year ago. Good players move up fast when they are healthy. We see that all the time.”  
“Yes, he has some weird ideas, maybe a bit selfish, but his idea about sick leave payments is good. We sometime get sick, injured. Not you maybe, but others. I don’t know why you shot it down the last minute.”  
Roger leaned against the locker, and frowned in thought. “I just think it’s going to be very hard to accomplish, and who will it serve? It’s not for the top 100. You think the ATP or the players should pay him or me money when we have a cold or a bad back or a knee surgery or maybe just resting because we played too much tennis? This money should go elsewhere.”  
“You and him - definitely not. Me - yes. Top 50 down - yes.”  
Roger rolled his eyes. “So you’ll give a part of your not-that-substantial earning every month as a top 120 player so someone like - I don’t know - maybe like Hewitt - who was number 1 in the world and made a lot of money in his career, will get sick leaves when he’s playing in his thirties after his fifteenth surgery? How does that help young guys move forward? How does that advance the sport? And guys ranked less than 150 don’t make money enough for that insurance to amount to anything. So, again - who does that help, really?”  
Sergiey shrugged. “This idea needs some work but if you shoot it down again without as much as talking about it Rafa will resign. So think carefully.”  
He gave Roger a long glance-over. “You need Nadal’s support in more way than one. And you need him on the council, or you’ll find that your opposition is stronger than it was before. Don’t be stupid.”  
Roger hushed at that. “I just - see other uses for this money, to be honest. But sure, we can talk about this during the meeting.” His skitted across Sergiey’s face. “Thanks for the heads up.”  
Sergey cocked a brow. “So, meeting is still on?”  
Roger sighed “Yes. Yes. I guess. I’ll see what I can get going, review my notes. I’m - really embarrassed about it. I’ll send out an Email today.” He paused for a moment, then looked at Sergiy. “Can I ask you something?”  
“Sure thing.”  
“You coming up to me just now, why? I mean, you’re normally the opposition, on the council. We’re not close. You could have let me burn tomorrow. I don’t think I would have remembered the meeting, no way. I’m not sure it’s even in my calendar.” He glanced at Severin who shrugged. “Don’t look at me, that’s not my department.”  
Sergey mouth quirked in an amused smile. “You all like to assume things about me. You thought I would be against you because I know you are Omega now.”  
Roger colored a little because - yes. “Well. Yes. If I had to speculate who would have a problem with an Omega playing top level tennis I would have put your name up there on the short list.” His eyes narrowed, puzzled. “I guess it’s good to know that this isn’t the case?”  
The Ukrainian shrugged. “It’s interesting. You being Omega. You already show the tour it doesn’t matter, you still won all those matches. So it’s funny seeing everyone go crazy over that. Me, I don’t mind. Others - watch your back. Because people are talking, talking, talking. Behind closed doors maybe, but they are talking about you. You need to show them nothing fazes you. No weakness, nothing.”  
Roger eyes narrowed. “I won’t.”  
He was met with a skeptic look and a smirk. “You already did. And you will have to find some imaginative way to deal with the draw, though.”  
Roger mouth dried instantly. “What.” he blurted out, glancing at Severin who looked a little sheepish. “Probably just out.” Sev said. “I haven’t looked yet. I don’t know who your first round is.”  
Sergiy waved his hand. “Not your first round, although It’s Robredo, not easy, but you should handle him on grass or you’re in worse condition than you’re letting on. Roddick landed in your forth round. Should be fascinating. But he has tough matches in the rounds before.”’  
Roger closed his mind to the rush of voices in his head and forced his jaw muscles to unlock. “We usually have good matches here. Pity it has to be so soon.”  
The Ukrainian smirked at him. “Yes. THAT’s why it’s going to be fascinating. Tell me you’re normally a better liar than this, the blood just drained out of your face, Feds. If you both make it, that should be something. Or - maybe I could beat you. We could meet in your third round.” His smirk widened. “Later.”

The moment the aggravating man took his leave, Roger sat down heavily on a nearby bench. Severin sighed, and squeezed his shoulder hard. “You alright? Sorry about that. I lost track of time, I forgot the draw was out already. You didn’t deserve to hear about it from him, like that. We always knew it could potentially happen.”  
Roger looked up at him blankly, wiped at his face and rose again. “Forget it. Since when do we worry about the fourth round of a Slam before the tournament even started? Robredo could very well bounce me out on the first round.” He grimaced, he wasn’t feeling right at all. “Let’s get moving, I have a bunch of things to do.”  
He bent down to pick up his bags and when he lifted his head after slinging the bag across his back and half turned toward the exit, he found himself standing face to face with Andy.

Andy was standing close enough to smell. Close enough to touch. Too close. They almost collided. The sirens in his head would have been ear-deafening, if it wasn’t for the frantic beating of his heart, overpowering everything else.  
His world basically exploded around him, because there was a literal ‘snap’ in their bond. Like two Elastic bands, stretched to the maximum, snapping back into place. And he knew he let out a whimper, because that was such a strong physical sensation, bordering on painful.  
Andy whitened, and took a startled step back. His eyes searching Roger’s face, Roger was doing the same. It’s been so long. And Andy - Fuck, he felt his heart dropping into his diaphragm as he allowed himself the fleeting pleasure of looking at Andy, really looking at him.  
The American had lost weight, but it was a lot less pronounced (and alarming) on his originally more stocky frame. His eyes carried shadows it hadn’t before as he searched Roger’s face, and his hand was curled in a white-knuckled fist against the straps of his bag.  
Severin looked between the two of them helplessly, like he wanted to take Roger by the arm and drag him away. 

 

Andy was the one whose brain kicked into motion first. “Rog.” he said hoarsely, and Roger’s entire body shuddered, because no one could ever say Andy Roddick normally wore his heart on his sleeve, but there was no mistaking the show of emotion on his face.  
Roger, on an instinct, reached out to grasp his hand. Like he would do, in another life, before all this mess ever happened, when they were just two players on tour. The friendly rivals.  
He recognized his mistake the moment Andy let out a bitter laugh as he looked down on the reached out hand. “Now that would be a phenomenally fucking bad idea and you know it.” He closed his eyes Roger could see his nostrils widened. Roger hasn’t washed after his practice, planning to do that at the house, and he could see Andy’s throat working slightly, inhaling him in.  
Roger pulled his hand back at once, his throat dry. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He said softly. “I wasn’t thinking.” He blinked his lips, and found out that he had no idea what to say, because the thoughts running in his head were all inappropriate or depressing. “You look good.”  
“Liar.” Andy snorted. “And don’t expect the same compliment in return, Feds. I’ve seen you play in Halle, that was ugly.”  
He raised his brow toward Seve. “Two months later, and you still haven’t figured out a way to help him pile pounds back on? He still looks like I can circle his waist with two hands. What have you guys been doing all the time he sat out, played scrabble in Switzerland?”  
“Andy, for fuck’s sake.” Roger said quietly, before Seve had any chance to respond to this unfair statement.  
“Yeah.” Andy said, his voice quickly turning ugly and hollow. “I keep forgetting you’re not my problem.”  
He made a show of looking around. “Mirka not around to supervise? Surprising.”  
Roger stared at him, unable to muster up any anger at the ugly words, because the man was leaking raw jealousy as visible as pool of blood all over the locker-room, and there was nothing he could say, really. Nothing at all. Not with Andy was so clearly hurting. Still hurting. In a way that caused his heart to clench to a tiny fist of longing and pain. Because it wasn’t still suppose to feel like this after this long apart. It wasn’t. For either of them.

At Roger’s expression, Andy closed his eyes. “Shit. Shit.” He groaned, wiping at his face, then he opened his eyes again, looking once again like the Andy Roddick he used to know. He puffed his cheek, letting air out slowly. “Okay. So, in my head, this moment looked way way different.”  
Roger smile was small and sad. “Yeah? How did it look like in your head?”  
“I was suave, casual and completely indifferent.” His smile was dry. “I don’t know if I quite cleared the net on that one.”  
Roger’s mouth quirked. “Not quite. I was going to wing it, you know. Improvise.”  
“How is it going so far?”  
“Not that great.” He exhaled, the heaviness in his heart lifting a fraction.”So, how you’ve been?”  
Andy let out a guffaw. “Amazing. what, you can’t tell?” They both smiled slightly at that. “You were fucking awesome at press.” He said suddenly. “I don’t know how you do that, how you cope with these vultures.”  
Roger’s expression turned serious. “You can’t avoid them forever. I can’t believe you still haven’t been to press.”  
Andy snorted. “Sure I can. Just watch me.”  
“It’s a Slam.” Roger warned. “The fines run a lot steeper here.”  
“Feel free to refund me, then. Rodge. I don’t actually give a fuck what the press want. I’m not going to satisfy their curiosity. And it’s better to let you control the story, you’re doing a fantastic job convincing the press you don’t give a fuck about me.”  
Andy was panting by the time he finished talking, and then he caught himself again. He closed his eyes in shame. “You know, I’m just going to get the hell out of here.”  
“No don’t.” Roger blurted out. He bit his lip. “Andy, we have to talk.”  
“We *are* talking. It’s pretty much a disaster and I have no interest in prolonging my suffering.”  
Seve, listening anxiously until that moment, interfered. “Roger, he’s right and this is not a place for you to have this conversation anyway.” He gestured with his head to where Djokovic disappeared a moment ago. Andy frowned at Roger. “Who is there?”  
“Djokovic.” Roger said in a low voice. “He came over to apologize. We’re suppose to talk later tonight.”  
Andy’s expression turned murderous. “You should stay away from him.”  
Roger cocked a brow. “No, you stay away from him. I mean it, Andy. If he wants to make amends, I’m gonna listen to what he has to say. You, keep your distance from him, please. I can handle myself and I really need you to stop with the Alpha posturing.”  
Andy’s grimace told him what he thought of that statement.  
They were both silent for a moment, then Roger said softly, aware of Seve hovering at his shoulder, not making any attempt not to listen, and the additional voices as the locker-room began to fill up. “I have to go.”  
“I know that.” Andy said, and Roger could see him swallowing. He suddenly frowned. “I haven’t seen the draw yet. Just tell me whether we got hosed.”  
Roger gave him a quick, grim nod. “Fourth round.”  
“Fuck. FUCK.” Andy closed his eyes, then opened them, and sighed. “Well, there’s a discussion we should not have until the third round.”  
“Yes.” Roger said, relieved Andy viewed the situation the same as he did. “Yes.”  
They looked at each other for a long moment, neither moved.  
“Yo, Andy! Where the fuck are you I’m waiting for 30 minutes, I’ve booked the court to - .”  
Mardy’s voice died as he came upon Andy and Roger. “Right. I should have known.” He frowned at Roger. “What are you even doing here? When I saw your matches in Halle I thought you were going to withdraw.”  
Roger’s eyes flickered to Mardy. “Defending my title, and a couple of streaks.” He said coldly. “How about yourself?”  
Mardy shrugged, as if it was a casual, benign remark he just made, and not a grave insult. “Don’t take it personally, Rog. I just didn’t think you were good for playing best of five.”  
Roger’s lips tightened. “Mardy, when I need your expert opinion on playing best of five, I’ll be sure to ask for it, until then, spare me.”  
“Mardy.” Andy interrupted, on edge. “Give us a second.”  
Mardy bristled. “We’re going to lose the court time.” He warned. “Pova right after us and she’s fucking going to be on time.”  
Andy gave him a look, and Mardy stalked off, mumbling to himself. His eyes locked on Seve, who didn’t budge. Roger slowly turned toward Severin, their eyes met.  
Severin glowered. “Everyone are waiting for you. Don’t expect me to be your cover. There ARE limits to what you can ask of me, Roger.” He stalked off, angrily.  
And then, they were alone. “Can I ask you something?” Andy said, his voice hoarse.  
Roger nodded wordlessly.  
“These past few weeks I haven’t felt - anything.There was this weird feeling about a week ago but nothing major. I just didn’t know, whether it was a sign the bond is getting weaker or because you haven’t been - having sex?”  
Roger exhaled. “Mirka and I. We’re - taking things slow.”  
“How’s that going?”  
“Don’t ask me that, I - ” His eyes searched Andy for a moment, and he lowered his head. “It’s what I have to do, it’s what I should do.” He looked up again. “And it’s what I want. I guess I just thought - everything would get easier. By now.”  
Andy’s face curdled. “So sorry I can’t make your life easier. I’m pretty much on the longest abstinence streak of my life, because of you.”  
Roger blinked. He hasn’t even considered that possibility, that Andy might be having sex, and the effect it might have on HIM in the case Andy will… indulge. The thought knocked the wind out of him.  
Andy studied his reaction carefully. “You liked hearing that.”  
Roger averted his eyes. “This is not a one-sided bond, you know.” He said gruffly.  
“Could have fooled me.” Andy growled back, taking a step toward him. The moment Andy was into his space, Roger flushed instantly. The urge to touch turned from insistent to unbearable. He whimpered. His fingernails digging into his hands. Andy was trembling. He swallowed repeatedly, not taking his eyes off Roger. “Shit.” He whispered. “Roger. Fuck. I - “  
They jumped at the hard clang of rackets crashing to the ground and Gasquet muffled cursing. Roger took a hasty step back, he was shaking hard. Andy turned to the locker, and leaned his forehead against the cold metal and took a deep breath. “Go. For fuck’s sake.”  
When he didn’t hear Roger’s footsteps, his hand clenched into a fist. “Roger. I can’t do it this time. You want to walk, you fucking walk..”  
Roger bolted.


	14. Chapter 14

When he managed to get himself to the player’s restaurant, Mirka was already off handling scheduling for his media obligations, but the guys were all there, they were suppose to eat but none of them ordered anything, and while the discussion was hushed, he could see the tension on all of their faces as he approached.   
Severin wouldn’t even look at him when he came near their little regular table. His gaze remained fixed on the draw sheet he was holding. He didn’t acknowledged Roger’s presence, but his eyes weren’t moving across the drawsheet, he radiated agitation and tension.  
Roger has had enough for one day. “Let’s go back to the house.” He said brusquely. “I forgot all about the council meeting tomorrow. I now find I have a shit load of stuff to do I wasn’t planning on.”   
Reminding him of those stuff was basically Mirka’s domain, but how could he blame her for forgetting? If she was distracted, it was after all his own damn fault. “We can do the fitness stuff at the house anyway. We don’t need to do that here. I want out of here.”   
No one argued with him, but Pierre was the only one who looked remotely sympathetic. “Rodge, what about food?”  
Roger’s appetite was completely gone at that point. His heart was aching with every beat, making him feel nauseated and testy. He gave a small shake of the head. “Not hungry and I don’t care. I want to go now.”  
Pierre sighed and relented. “Okay, back to the house, then.” He suddenly did a double-take. “Where are your bags?”  
Roger swore fiercely as realization dawned.”Shit! I left them in the locker-room.” He groaned, then half-glanced at Seve, who finally met his eyes with a defiant chin-thrust. “You told me to go. Was I supposed to take your bags with me, or what?”  
Roger did a little double take at his tone and demeanour., then his eyes narrowed. “No. I just thought you might go bring them for me now so I wouldn’t have to go back there, but don’t fucking bother. You’re not like required or anything.”  
There was no mistaking the hurt that flashed on Severin’s face, whose lips tightened. “You’re saying this to me with the amount of bags I’m usually schlepping around for you? Go to hell, Roger. I’m going to the village to eat.” He stalked off, muttering to himself.   
Roger gritted his teeth as he glowered after him. “With that attitude don’t hurry back.” He called out, huffing at Severin’s dismissive hand gesture as he stalked off. He ran an agitated hand over his face, that day was just going from bad to worse. Without another word, he turned on his heels to head to the locker-room,   
Pierre rose to stop him with a hand on his arm. “You going back there is not happening.” His voice was short. “*I* will go and get your bags. You can go to the car and wait there.” He tossed him the keys and looked at Stephane. “Do me a favor. Go with Severin. Go grab a bite to eat, bring some take outs with you for the two of us and most of all - calm him the fuck down. I have no patience to deal with his moods as well. We’ll meet back at the house.”  
Stephane nodded, he glanced at Roger, who stood there, rocking back and forth on his heels, and eyes anywhere but on him. He sighed and took off after Severin, shaking his head.  
Pierre touched Roger’s shoulder. “Go now. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.” His tone was gentle, but wasn’t one to be refused. Without another word, Roger went. 

 

When Pierre got back to the mostly deserted VIP parking lot, he could see Roger was in trouble even before he got there. He was sitting in the driver seat, resting his head on his hands against the steering wheel and was sobbing. He had the stereo turned on and Pierre could hear AD/AC blasting even from outside of the car. He couldn’t imagine what the volume must be like inside.   
Roger didn’t stop when Pierre opened the back door, not even to take those gulping breaths people did when unable to stop crying.  
Pierre threw the bags in the back seat, then, deeply concerned, sat in the passenger seat, and waited. Eventually, he turned the music off, put a hand on Roger’s back, between his shoulder blades, and rubbed gently, clicking his tongue. “Roger.” He said softly.  
When Roger raised a bleary head from the steering wheel to squint at him, Pierre gathered the younger man into his arms. He didn’t say anything for a long moment. Just held him in a bone-crushing hug. Roger buried his face against Pierre’s shoulder and didn’t move from this spot, his back still heaving from the force of the tears. His hand curled into a fist, grasping at the end of Pierre’s shirt.  
Pierre sighed, cradling the tousled head with his hand. After several minutes in which neither of them said much, Pierre reached out to his bag and took out a water bottle and pulled back a little, handing it to Roger silently. Roger pulled back, still sniffling hard, and gratefully took the bottle, drinking his fill. When the bottle was empty, and his breathing was more or less under control. He finally managed to look at Pierre, who was watching him in frowning silence. Roger let out a gasping breath. “Just say it already.”  
Pierre’s look was grave and troubled. “What can I say? I can see how clearly you are hurting. I wish I knew how to help you.”  
Roger took a shuddering breath, his body relaxed fractionally. “It’s enough you are here.” He coughed against the lump still remaining in his throat. “It’s more than enough. There’s isn’t anything you’re suppose to say, you can’t - you can’t solve this for me. There are no smart advice or magical solutions. I have to figure this out by myself.”  
Pierre squeezed his shoulder without intending, on the verge of too hard. “And until you figure it out?” He asked softly. “You go on like this? Holding it in, constantly on the verge of a breakdown? And you want me to be okay with that? You want me to watch you crumble and say nothing? I can’t do that. I won’t. I worry for you.”  
Roger wiped at his face again. “Come on.” he shifted uncomfortably. “You know me. I just need to let it out once in awhile.”   
Pierre wasn’t remotely convinced or reassured. “I’m not concerned about your tears, Roger, but about your emotional and physical strain.” He sighed. “What happened in the locker-room?”  
Roger grimaced. “Didn’t Seve tell you?”  
Pierre didn’t reply, he waited until he had Roger’s curious eyes on again. “No. He was distraught. He thought you were going to do something you’d eventually come to regret. He was - thrown - by how affected you were by Andy’s presence.”’  
Roger stared out of the front windshield to an unseen point. “We’re both stronger than that. Severin has about zero faith in me, it’s getting tiring to deal with.”   
“For how long though?” Pierre asked softly.  
“What do you want from me, Pierre?”  
“For you to take a good hard look at yourself.” Pierre’s voice was still soft, but the voice held an steely edge. “I want you to consider the possibility that you just can’t be in the same place as Andy right now. I want you to consider pulling out of the tournament. You cannot fight this bond, stay around Andy, keep your marriage and play tennis all at the same time. It’s just possible that your will alone just won’t be enough to pull it off without seriously damaging yourself or your life for the long run in one way or another.”  
Roger’s mouth tightened. “What do you want me to do, then? What I feel for Andy is an insanity that just has to go away eventually. If we both fight it hard enough, we will get over it.” His voice held a note of desperation. “And I can’t pull out of Wimbledon. If I sit at home I will go crazy. I need normalcy, the tour, the road, keeping busy. And we’re playing the same tournaments, I just need to - have a grip on it.”  
He glanced at Pierre, who sat there, grey-faced, staring into space. “Pierre.” Roger said, his voice small, as he caught Pierre’s eyes shifting to him in the mirror. “Don’t look like that. Don’t be angry with me. I need to deal with this bond and overcome it. There’s no way I could do that if I’m sitting home all day thinking about this situation I’m in. Now I work out, I play tennis, I see people, I tire more easily. I sleep better. I can’t do that if I’m at home.”  
Pierre gave him an incredulous look. “You think that’s what I am? Angry? Everyone else are blaming me for enabling you and maybe they’re right.” He sighed. “Roger, I love you like my son, but I think you’re not seeing yourself very clearly right now.” He stopped and sighed. “If you want to get through this fortnight, you need to do things differently. If you think you can stroll around Andy in the locker-room and successfully resist this bond’s pull you are severely deluding yourself. It’s not going to work, just look at you! You have to try and keep your distance.”  
Roger averted his eyes, and Pierre said forcefully. “I will stand by any choice you make, any choice, alright? But don’t let the choice be taken out of your hands. You won’t forgive yourself if that happens.”  
Roger bowed his head and wiped the tears away. “Today. In the locker-room. Andy was - God.” He groaned in pain. “What did I do to him, I don’t know him to be this man that I saw.”  
Pierre sighed. “Severin told me it’s still very raw for him. It’s a shame he has no tolerance for Alpha suppressants. It’s legal for him and a small dose would have helped him when he’s around you.”  
Roger’s eyes shifted at that, but he was still studying the steering wheel in the relative darkness of the underground VIP parking lot and did not raise his eyes. “There’s a part of me who took a perverse pleasure seeing him so torn up.” He admitted, his voice hoarse. “To know it’s because of me, that he still cares. It’s sick and it’s wrong for me to feel that because all I have to do is say the words to him. I’m the one keeping him away, but at the same time I’m glad he’s not indifferent while I’m here eating my fucking heart out.” He slammed his hands against the steering wheel in self disgust.  
If Pierre was surprised or horrified, there was little in his reaction to admit to it. He chuckled ruefully. “Welcome to the full dynamic of a male on male Alpha-Omega bond.”  
Roger frowned. “I had a bond for 8 years! It never felt quite like this with Mirka and it’s not because I didn’t love her! I got jealous, yes. Mir did too, a lot. But I never felt something so intense. Too intense.” He flushed. “And - before this heat. I was never attracted to men outside of a heat, but now all I have to do is to think about Andy and…” He groaned and flushed.  
Pierre’s smiled ruefully. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that your baseline sexuality changed in any fundamental way. That’s just how it works with a bond’s mate, the gender doesn’t matter.” He paused, then said cautiously. “Do you want to talk about your draw?”  
Roger shook his head forcefully. “God no. Let’s get through the first round first.”  
Pierre harrumphed. “I can tell you this - You won’t win a single round if you continue skipping meals and be on an emotional edge all the time. If you don’t start taking care of yourself your chances in this tournament are doomed.”  
When Roger simply sighed and didn’t respond, Pierre put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, acutely aware of how Roger leaned into the touch. “What are you going to tell Mirka?”  
Roger shrugged miserably. “I don’t know. That I had a difficult day? That seeing Andy was tough? I don’t know what else I can say that won’t make everything so much worse.”  
Pierre hesitated. “Severin is struggling with this. He’s not used to keeping your secrets from Mirka like this. Not when we’re all basically living in the same place.”  
Roger glanced at him sharply. “How are you not struggling, then?”  
Pierre’s expression was rueful. “Who says that I’m not? But she’s closer with Seve. And Seve is not an Omega, I am. I understand what a bond is. Mirka understands this, so she’s not coming to me with her worries and concerns much, but she IS talking to Seve. Go talk to him when you get back home. I don’t blame him one bit for wanting to see you far away from Andy, he’s right and you’re wrong, and you were unnecessarily dismissive today about going back to the locker-rooms for the bags, completely uncalled for.”  
Roger’s mouth clenched, and in response so did Pierre’s hand on his shoulder. “Roger. I know you’re wrapped up in your own misery right now, but it’s not like you to lose sight of everything else. Other people have problems too and being around you lately is a pain.”  
Roger grimaced at the squeeze, but did not shake off Pierre’s hand. “I know I’m insufferable to be around these days.” He looked at Pierre somberly. “I know it’s not easy for you either. Dealing with all of this. I know it stirs stuff for you, too. Don’t think I’m blind to it. I’m not. I’m very grateful.”  
Pierre flushed slightly and shrugged with a small smile. “As long as you are aware, and as long as you know that after this tournament I’m taking a long vacation in a place with a beach and no tennis courts and no phones. Just little drinks with umbrellas in them.”  
Roger smiled back. “Of course.”  
Pierre’ smiled back. “Now, do you want to drive or should I?”  
Roger shrugged. “Driving is fine.”  
Pierre took the water bottle from Roger and wet the edge of the towel. “Here, wipe your face for God’s face. You look like a drowned rat.”  
Roger snorted, but complied, starting the car a moment later.

 

\------  
“God, that’s right. The council meeting. Roger. It slipped my mind completely.” Mirka apologized when she finally got to the house, just as Roger was rummaging through his notes, his notes from January, that is, and some from Indian wells, trying to figure out the main talking points should be for tomorrow’s forgotten player council. 

It took Mirka ages to arrive after running all of her errands, so had a chance to force himself to calm down, eat something, receive yet another excruciating massage from Stephane, who apparently decided silence a good way to deal with the situation and therefore did not say much during the treatment, but Roger could tell he was taking it easy on him, and was grateful for that. Roger couldn’t say he minded much.  
After the massage, he forced himself to have an uncomfortable conversation with Severin, who accepted his apology stoically but found it all together difficult to even look at him. Nothing was solved between them, that much was obvious, but neither felt like getting into it now. 

Then Mirka returned, just as he was going through his things.  
Roger lifted his head from his note book and ipad. “I know. I’m not mad at you at all. Just at myself. I mean, this is just - not good. I’m going to be sitting there looking like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing and this is not the way I wanted to start out. Those meetings are tense enough these days as it is without me showing up there clueless.” He stopped, stood up and sighed. “Never mind that now. I’ll figure something out before tomorrow.”   
He looked her over, and smiled a little. “Want to tell me what you’ve been up to?”  
She flopped on the sofa with him with a sigh, kicking off her heels, and Roger was relieved that she had propped her legs in his lap without a second thought. He reached to hold one of her feets in his palms, and she gave out a long sigh and leaned back. “Hmm. What I’ve been up to? Tony and I went to a meeting with Mercedes.”  
Roger’s hands, idly rubbing her feet, froze. “What? I thought you had a meeting with media outlets to see what sort of press I’m going to do this week aside from the pressers and for whom.”  
“We did that too. We’ll talk about that in a moment. But before that meeting, I want to meet with Mercedes. They’re… wondering whether they haven’t made a hasty decision, after seeing the reception you received in Halle.” She said carefully, gauging his reaction. “And they’re getting lots of hate mail.”  
“You two really shouldn’t have done that without letting me know first.” Roger grumbled, annoyed. “I would have told you not to fucking bother.”  
“We’re just testing out the waters, Roger.” Her tone was soft and cajoling. “See what they have in mind. I never made a significant decision regarding your career without you and I’m not about to start now, so chill. When they called us I didn’t know what they had to say, and I didn’t want to upset you needlessly.”  
Roger frowned in disgust. “They dumped me for being Omega. If now they think it wasn’t a good PR decision, that’s too damn bad and too damn late. I’m not going back to that fold. I don’t care how money they offer me, so don’t even come up with a number, I don’t want to hear it.”’  
She smirked slightly. “Well, I haven’t heard a number yet either. Tony was fairly convinced it would be a good number. There’s an online campaign going on against them for not renewing your contract, a big announcement about a hefty new contract would surely get some of the media and some of your fans off their backs. If it’s important to you, maybe the announcement could have some kind of apology in it. We can bargain for that. ”  
Roger frowned.“Mir, I don’t care about their apology. I rather go for a Company that’s more suitable for me. I don’t know if that’s Mercedes anymore. They’re prejudiced. Tell Tony I’m not interested at all, okay. It’s over and done with it.”  
She looked at him for moment, her brow furrowed, and then nodded. “Alright. I didn’t mean to be pushy about it. I understand where you’re coming from.”  
His fingers rubbed more vigorously at the arch of her feet and she sighed softly at the sensation, melting on the sofa.  
His eyes flickered to her and to the pumps she took off. The heels were high and narrow. He shook his head. “I don’t know why you wear those heels, Mir. They’re killing your feet.” He pressed her toes gently and she groaned.  
“They make my legs look good.” She said, stretching them further to his direction.  
He chuckled. “They look good enough without heels that high.”  
When she smiled lazily at him, he was stuck with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Of how skimpy he had been with his attention, his compliments and his heart lately.  
He slid his fingers up her ankles, careful where her old foot injury had left her particularly sensitive, and for a moment, debated whether to say nothing at all and not ruin a good moment for them.   
He lifted her left leg to rub at the calf, and then pressed his lips against her knee, closing his eyes. “Mir…” he whispered, without intending, because the desperation and the pain came through in his voice.  
Her eyes, watching him lazily until that moment, opened up. “What’s going on?” She asked, then frowned. “In fact, I thought you’d still be at Wimbledon doing fitness. Why are you back?”’  
“I’ve had a rough day.” He admitted, then swallowed. “I don’t know if you know.” He licked his lips uncertainty. “Andy arrived from Queens.”   
There was no mistaking the way her face clouded, he could feel the tension coursing through her body, he saw it in the clench of her jaw and the tightening of her lips.  
“We ran into each other in the locker-room.” Roger said, bracing himself to look at her as he spoke. “It was bound to happen sooner or later, I guess.”  
Her voice only shook slightly. “And? How did it go?”  
He took a deep breath, then exhaled softly. “It wasn’t easy.” He paused. “I don’t want to lie to you. It was...it just wasn’t easy at all.”  
Her eyes searched his face. “Did he come on to you?”  
Roger shook his head quickly. “No. He’s respectful of my decision. He’s - he’s just hurting.”  
“And so are you.” She said, her voice soft.  
He blinked and looked away from her. “I’m going to do my best to avoid him.’  
She huffed a little. “Right. Going to be a bit difficult, with you on the same side of the draw, playing on the same days.” She inhaled, let out a long and slow exhale and folded her legs..“Am I supposed to be… supportive? Comforting? Shake Andy’s hand when I meet him in the hallway? Murder him in his sleep? I honestly don’t know what you expect, I wish I knew.”  
“Nothing.” Roger whispered. “Just be patient with me. I’m trying very very hard to move past this.”  
She sighed deeply. “I know you are, I don’t doubt that, but I’m looking at you… I know you too well not to know when you are hurting. What did it make you feel, seeing him?”  
Roger opened his mouth to respond, and found himself shaking. He swallowed again and again. His hands balled into fists. “Torn. Confused I guess.” He replied softly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “It was just harder than I thought it would be.”  
Mirka stared at some point in the distance. “Huh. I guess I knew that was going to happen.”  
He couldn’t look at her, his mouth tasted ashen. Taste of failure. “Would you rather I didn’t tell you?”   
She wiped her tears at the back of her hand. “No, I just rather you didn’t feel that, but I guess I can’t do much about that.” She turned her head to look at him, and found him still staring at his lap. “But I can’t solve this for you, Roger. You look at me and you expect me to help you through - through what? Not loving me anymore? Wanting someone else? I don’t know how to help you do that, I sure as hell don’t know how to change that. I thought I did but I don’t. I can’t. I can talk to the media for you and I can advise you and I can care for you and I can even love you, but I can’t remind you what you used to love about me when you’re completely wrapped up in someone else.”  
“But I haven’t forgotten.” Roger replied, raising his head to her. “You’re…”  
“I don’t want to hear the fucking list, Roger! I want you to feel it, and you’re not. Not right now, and even if you do - it’s completely masked by what you feel for Andy. I don’t know if you can feel anything else.”  
When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “I haven’t forgotten for a moment what I love about you and I haven’t stopped feeling it, either. But you’re right in the sense that I’m confused and torn and hurting, even if I don’t want to be. I can’t help it.” He was proud of the evenness in his voice, because in his heart he was dying. “I know that you’re losing sympathy for that and I don’t blame you.”  
She let out a long sigh “Did you ever notice that we keep having a variation of the same discussion and we’re not getting anywhere?”  
Roger’s throat closed. “Yes.” He ground out. “Do you want to have… another discussion?”  
She shook her head, and he could see she was gathering herself. “No. Not yet anyway.” She swallowed hard. “Do you… I don’t know. want to see a movie or something, or are you planning to turn in early? I just thought - maybe we should do something - benign. Normal. And not… talk much. About stuff.”   
Roger grimaced. “It sounds - good. I mean it. I’d love to. But - I can’t. I have to go see Novak.”  
Her eyes widened at him. “What? Why on earth for?”  
“Right. I haven’t told you.” He sighed. “I saw him, too. He wants to apologize, but I didn’t think it was a conversation meant for the locker-rooms, so I took a reincheck until tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “Right about now. And I want to get it over and done with. Tipsarevic came over as well to ask me to talk to him.”  
Mirka’s frowned deepened, her look fraught with concern. “I don’t like it. His behavior toward you was aggressive and violent. He wants to talk to you, he can do that here.”  
Roger quirked a brow. “It’s a bit much, don’t you think? To ask him to come here?”  
“No, I don’t!” She looked away and exhaled softly. “I just- I don’t want you meeting him in some darkened street corner.”   
Touched by the concern, and slightly amused by it, he touched her cheek with the back of his hand and she didn’t pull back. “Mir. I’m not in heat. He’s not going to do anything to me, and let’s suppose he tried anything, I’d be able to defend myself. I want to resolve this tension between us, and frankly he’s getting hell from everyone since my heat. I’m willing to be the bigger man here. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”  
She huffed. “If Andy was standing here, asking you not to meet this man who nearly raped you , would you have listened to him? Do I need to talk to Andy to talk you out of this?”  
Roger blinked at her, unsure how the conversation suddenly returned back to Andy. “Come on. I think he was a pretty long way from raping me and while I do think you’re worried needlessly, If Andy ever believed I should let fear dictate what I do, than I won’t listen to him either. Honestly, Mir, If I felt unsafe I wouldn’t go. Novak honestly looked remorseful when I saw him and I want to talk to him so I can put this behind him and I think taking a walk together would be, you know, beneficial. I don’t want to talk to him about those stuff when there are people loitering around.” He took a deep breath. “And if you think that the problem is that I look and you and I don’t think that you’re an alpha or that you’re my alpha, you got it wrong, okay? It’s not how it is.’  
Her expression turned shrewd and thoughtful. “Really?” She closed her distance from him, standing right in front of him. “Prove it then, don’t go.”  
“What?” Roger frowned at her, not comprehending.  
“I said, don’t go. I mean it.” She put both her hands on his hips, and looked into his eyes. “Don’t go.”  
Roger shivered, because it suddenly dawned at him, what she was trying to do, which was using her position as an alpha and their bond to get him to do her bidding. Something she had never tried to do before. She never had to either. He couldn’t think of a single time when he refused her request.   
“What are you doing?” He asked her, his voice suddenly hoarse, even though he knew, he could sense it. They still had a bond, as broken up as it was, and he could feel the pull of her will trying to overcome his own. The sensation, stuttering and disjointed, was running hot and cold up and down his spine in a way that was not one bit pleasant. “Stop that, please stop that. It doesn’t feel good.”  
She suddenly shuddered, and put a hand over her mouth and stepped away from him. “Oh. Oh God. I’m sorry.”  
Roger, panting hard, sank to the couch and allowed his head to drop between his knees.   
Mirka was still standing aside, frozen. “I didn’t mean to do that, I - I just wanted to see whether it would work..”  
Roger coughed, then blinked his lips. “I felt it, if that’s what you mean. I don’t know if that’s constitutes as working, I - “ He was hit by a wave of nausea, and closed his eyes against it. “Oh. Stop.”  
Mirka sat next to him, her face pale with worry. “But I’m not doing anything anymore!”  
He could feel his dinner going up, the taste of it arid and bitter in his mouth, and and raced to the bathroom, where he proceeded to throw his guts out.   
Mirka knelt next to him, her hand tentative between his shoulder blades. “God. Is it because of what I did?” she asked, her voice panicky.  
Roger wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but the nausea hasn’t left him. “Dunno. Shit. Call Pier-ah.” He leaned over the toilet and retched again. Feeling the walls of his stomach contract helplessly.  
Mirka raced out of the room and Pierre was there a couple of moments later, but he didn’t say anything to him. He couldn’t make out what exactly Pierre told Mirka, but suddenly, just as it came, the nausea stopped and the odd sensation as well, leaving him sweaty and breathless, slumped against the toilet, his head swimming.  
Mirka sank down against the bathroom floor and buried her face in her hands, the very picture of misery.  
Pierre had a solid grip on his arm, helping him up from the floor.“Easy when you get up. Take my hand. Here we go. Sit here.” Pierre closed the toilet seat for him, and helped Roger sit on it. Roger leaned back, trying to take deep breathes.   
“No more nausea, Roger?” Pierre said, touching the back of his hand to Roger’s forehead.  
Roger nodded wearily, struggling to speak, and moved over to the sink to wash his mouth, sitting back on the toilet a moment afterwards.   
Pierre looked between them and sighed deeply. “Okay. So, that was the very definition of a bad idea. You need a healthy bond to even try to attempt to do what you just did, Mirka. If the bond in any way compromised, it would lead to this, if not worse. And if I may be blunt, some things are better left unattempted even in the best of circumstances, and I am speaking from experience here. A lot can go wrong when you try something like that.”  
“I get it.” She said miserably. “I didn’t - mean to. I tried to stop - wanting. I thought it stopped once you stopped - thinking it.”  
Pierre gestured his disagreement with his hand. “Not so. Not thinking about it isn’t enough. You need to almost deactivate it. It’s good it worked on the first attempt when I showed you how because for many alphas it can take a while. This is why I said a lot can go wrong.” He paused. “I get that this is none of my business, but can I ask what this was about?  
She then raised her eyes defiantly then, and looked at Roger. “I was thinking that meeting Djokovic in some park somewhere is an irresponsible and dangerous move and that he shouldn’t go. That’s what I was thinking.”  
Pierre quirked a brow at him, but was silenced by Roger’s expression almost immediately.   
“Mir…” Roger sighed as he lifted his head to look at her. “It was never about Djokovic. It was about you testing our bond…you didn’t want to see if you can stop me from seeing Djokovic, you wanted to see if you could influence my choices. You never tried that before. Not that I know of, anyway.”  
Mirka let out a little sound of dismay. “Maybe because I never doubted I could. Now it’s clear that I can’t. The Roger I know wouldn’t have gone against my wishes, I didn’t have to use any Alpha tricks for that, my request would have been enough.”  
Roger’s lips tightened. “The Mirka I know knew when to let go and actually accepted my decisions, even if she didn’t like them. Alpha and Omega roles be damned. I guess that’s a thing of the past, too. This is what I should expect from now on?!”   
Her eyes widened. “Go to hell, Roger.”  
“I’m already there, or can’t you tell?!” He yelled, then wiped his face. “I’m going out. I need to see a man about a dog. Or Something.”  
Pierre, standing there white faced, grabbed Roger by the arm. “Woah. Roger, wait.” He turned the taller man to him. “This is not a good idea.” He mouthed. “If you’re going to get fresh air, Go. If you’re going to see Djokovic, don’t - not in this kind of mood.”  
“LET GO NOW.”  
Pierre, sighing, did. Roger was out the door and out of the house seconds after.


	15. Chapter 15

The wind was cold against him. Raising goosebumps to his skin. He left the house wearing only a light jacket and it was a chilly day. But he could feel the flush of anger, still burning in him.

He was walking for a while before he stopped to look where he was, then stopped uncertainly. He has left the house without a cellphone and wasn’t sure he knew where in the Village Novak was staying. People went by, and he quickly pulled the hood over his face, not wanting to get recognized. He looked around and berated himself for his stupidity, because now that he made a big show out of walking out of the house, he realized he had no idea where to go, he was in the middle of Wimbledon village with fans aplenty. Stupid idiot.

“Roger?”

He turned at the sound of Viktor Troicki’s voice. Something of his state of mind must have reflected on his face, because Viktor frowned. “You alright? What are you doing here like that?” The man looked around. “Looking to get mobbed by fans?”

Roger smiled thinly. “No. Not really. Listen, do you - have a cell phone on you, maybe? I was supposed to meet Novak, but I’m not sure where he’s staying and I left the house without my cell. Could you call him?”

Viktor looked at him oddly, but took the phone out of his pocket. He arched his brow at Roger. “You’re going to make peace with him, right? Otherwise, you’re not getting his phone number. He’s just around the block from here, by the way. So you weren’t that far off.”

Roger’s mouth twitched. “You realize I actually do have his cell number, right? I just don’t have it *on* me. Don’t make me go back all this way to get it, please. “

Viktor frowned at him, and Roger sighed. “I’m going to hear him out. That’s all I can tell you. Put yourself in my shoes for a moment and figure why it’s not easy.”

Viktor grimaced. “To be honest Roger. I’m an Alpha and It’s easier for me to put myself in his shoes. The thing is, not many alphas could have walked away from an Omega’s heat with a level head. And he’s getting a lot more crap for it than he deserves. You’re the one who screwed up and forgot your suppressants, but he’s getting blamed for what? He never touched you. It’s not right.”

Roger’s lips tightened.“Duly noted. Can I have his number now?”

Viktor sighed, and dialed, then put the phone to his ear, saying a few words in Serbian. He looked at Roger and frowned. “You want to go to his house? It’s warmer there. You’re not dressed for this weather. Fuck, it’s going to be rainy Wimbledon. I just know it.”

Roger shook his head. “Tell him to come down. There’s a small park here. We can talk there.”

Viktor rolled his eyes and turned back to the phone. “No. He says come down. To that little garden there around the corner. Yeah. The one with the swings. And bring a sweater or something with you for him because it’s chilly out here.”

He closed the phone and turned back to Roger. “He says two minutes.” He paused for a moment. “Rodge… I’m not in your shoes, okay? And I know you never liked each other too much. But Novak is a good friend of mine and he paid enough for something he wasn’t in full control of.”

Roger’s face were frozen and Troicki sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Just don’t make it worse.”

 

Several moments afterwards, Roger looked up to see Novak walking toward him. Like Roger, he had his hoodie pulled over his face, but also was wearing a coat over it.

Something curled unpleasantly in Roger’s gut when he saw Novak standing there. This intimate meeting was somehow worse than the public one in the tournament.

Novak looked pale and miserable under the street lights, and he could barely look him in the eyes. Roger tilted his head toward the playground. There was a roundabout, a slide, and a couple of swings. Quite picturesque. 

By a shared yet wordless agreement, they each picked a swing to sit on, side by side, after first checking it could bear the weight of an adult. Novak handed him a sweater. Roger hesitated.

“It’s not mine.” Novak said softly. “It’s Marian’s. And he’s a Beta. I know I’m clueless about some Omega-related stuff but this I know.”

Roger took the sweater gratefully. It was overly large for this thin frame, and pulled it over his head. The scent was foreign but generally inoffensive. Now that he was no longer walking but sitting down, he WAS getting cold and it was terrible for his back.

He cracked a smile as he stretched his legs and pushed off the ground. It’s been a very long time since he’s done that. He allowed himself to swing back and forth for a moment or two, gaining momentum, before breaking with his legs and turning to Novak. The younger man was not swinging, he was studying his feet which did not lift from the ground.

“Look, you asked for me to come and I did.” Roger said, slightly exasperated. “So Talk.”

“I just wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry.” Novak said, finally raising his head. “Really, Roger. I am. I wasn’t at full control that night. I’ve been working on that, getting better control.”

Roger complemented for a moment. “What if Rafa hadn’t been there?”

Novak flushed. “Probably nothing good.” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad nothing happened. I don’t want that. I never wanted that. You gotta know that.”

Roger sighed. “Novak, I get that you’re an Alpha. Alphas are going to have a reaction to an Omega in heat. But I was behind closed doors. For most, it’s enough to distance themselves. You tried to break in and you continued saying shit to Andy even after my heat’s been over.”

Novak bit his lip. “It was more about Roddick than it was about you. We don’t get along. We never did. Not since that US Open. Anyway, he put me against the wall, so I guess your honor has been avenged.”

Roger’s face curdled and he glared at him. “My ‘honor’ didn’t need any avenging. Only thing I ever needed for you is to keep your knot in your pants.”

Novak froze. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was making a joke.”

Roger sighed, exhausted and frustrated.”Your jokes are pretty bad.  Look. I’m...you’re saying you’re sorry and I believe you, Okay? I believe you. If we can drop this, that would be fine by me. I want to put the entire experience behind me. But my personal life are off-limits for you indefinitely. You don’t talk about it to me, and you don’t talk about me to others.”

Novak swallowed and accepted with a nod. He then glanced at Roger again. And handed him his phone. Roger frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

“My messages. On twitter. Take a look. ”

Roger looked at him for a long moment. Then went through the messages. Hostile. Crude.  Threatening. “Alpha Dog’ was the least offensive. Roger grimaced, then hesitated. Eventually he moved a hand over his face as he saw the worse of them. Novak’s head was still bowed. “You have a lot of devoted fans” Novak mumbled, his voice tanged with bitterness.

Roger’s eyes flickered to him as he handed him back the phone. “If you really believe this is only about the Federer-Djokovic rivalry, you’re deluded. If that makes you feel better, I’m getting my fair share of those, too. From Alphas who don’t think I should be playing tennis at all, and Omegas angry at me for being a terrible example and staying in the closet.” He sighed. “Why are you showing these to me?”

Novak didn’t raise his head. “Can you make it stop somehow? It’s been like that for months.”

Roger buried his face in his hands for a long moment. He was suddenly so exhausted. “I can say in press that we made peace with each other. I don’t know how much that would help though. As I said, I don’t think most of those people even watch tennis. I’ll try, okay? ”

Novak hesitated, then nodded. “That would be - I think that would be good.”

“In return. I want you to say you’re completely supportive of Omega’s rights to play pro tennis. I’m sure someone can present you the appropriate question.” Roger said quickly, before the momentum is lost.

Novak’s eyes widened. “Omegas aren’t forbidden to play tennis.” He said carefully. “Well. Not in most western countries. I don’t know about the middle east and stuff like that.”

“Yeah?” Roger asked, “And how many actually do? How much prejudice is there? Among coaches? Federations? How many Omega players you know are coming up in Serbia? I want you to say it. It’s important AND it would get a lot of people off your back.”

Novak shrugged. “I can say this, I guess. But Roger, there is is a reason why most don’t play. Like what happened to you.”

Roger’s face curdled. “I forgot a suppressant. Which wouldn’t be a problem if I would have a long term solution, like a shot - but the long term shot is banned substance, same as the emergency suppressants. So maybe that’s what we should be working on fixing.”

Novak shrugged. “I can say in press what you want, Roger. I don’t care. But it won’t change people’s opinions about Omegas. You’re the exception to the rule and no one else will see it any other way.”

Roger shivered suddenly, suddenly sick of the conversation and Novak’s presence next to him. He stood up. “We have a deal then.” His eyes flickered down to Novak. “And any moment here makes me wish otherwise, so I’m taking off. It’s been.. really great. Thank Marian for the jacket for me.” He shrugged the jacket off, tossed it to Novak, and took off without looking back.

 

 

By the time Roger started making his way back, it was drizzling lightly again.  He groaned. No jacket. No umbrella. Such an idiot. The water ran down irritatingly down his back, chilling him to the bone. He should have jogged back, but he did not have the energy. He felt drained, but was happy to get the uncomfortable discussion with Novak out of his mind and out of his way. 

Preoccupied, his head swimming with thoughts, he didn’t notice Andy standing in front of the gate to the house until he was right there in front of him.

Roger raised startled eyes to Andy, whose relief was palpable on his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Andy.” Roger breathed. “What are you doing here?”

Andy stared back. “Are you fucking kidding me? You alright? Because two hours ago I got the worse feeling. I called but you didn’t answer. Eventually I called Pierre and he said you were fine but that you were out out and he sounded very strange about it. So I just…” He moved a hand over his face and flushed. “So I came here, alright? I didn’t know what else to do.”

Roger licked his suddenly perched lips. “Oh. I’m - sorry. I’m - fine.”

Andy’s eyes narrowed at him. “It didn’t feel like you were fine and it doesn’t look like you are fine right now.”

Roger stared at him, and Andy flushed, and moved a nervous hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking control the fact I sense stuff going on with you, but I do, so stop lying. What happened?”

Roger shrugged uncomfortably. “Nothing happened. You just-  you shouldn’t have come here.”

Andy’s eyes were sharp on him. “Maybe not, but you’re not fine, you’re wandering the streets when it’s raining without a cell phone, what the f-”

At that moment, the wind picked up. Causing Roger to tremble . Before he has had a chance to blink, Andy shrugged out of his jacket and without a pause, wrapped it around Roger’s shoulders. “No jacket on a rainy day in England? You want to tell me again you’re fine?”

The moment the jacket wrapped around Roger’s shoulders, he was assailed by Andy’s scent. Strong. Rich. Comforting. Arousing. Alpha. Bond-mate. Like balm on an open sore. He let out a choked gasp and inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. “Oh. Why do you smell so good. Just… please.”

Andy’s throat closed at that. He took a step forward and then his hand was against Roger’s face, against his cheek, caressing against the stubble. “Rodge, Please what?” He asked, softening his voice.

Roger was frozen in place, his eyes still closed, he bit into his lips. The arousal and need etched on his face.

Slowly, Andy drawn him closer, and helped him put his hands in the sleeves of the coat and zipped him up.  “What’s going on? Where have you been?”

Engulfed in Andy’s scent and proximity, there was nothing he could do but answer as the words tore out of him. “I went to see Djokovic.”

Andy’s stiffened, alarmed. “What, why? What the fuck did he do?”

Roger groaned. “Nothing. God.. He didn’t do anything to me. We only talked for 10 minutes or so. We fixed things, sort of, alright? It’s just that - Mirka wasn’t on board with me going to see him, so..” He let his voice falter, he didn’t mean to tell Andy that.

Andy frowned at Roger. Confused. “I don’t get the connection. I mean, I get why she didn’t want you going to see him, but I don’t understand why that would make you, and therefore *me* feel like crap.”

“Andy.” Roger sighed. “Drop it. It’s between Mirka and I. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah. Why don’t I believe that? She didn’t want you seeing Novak, fine. Why did I feel like I was going to throw up? Or like there was something wrong with you?”

“Because I was throwing up.” Roger exhaled the words. “Mir didn’t want me to see Djokovic. So she told me not to go.”

Andy’s eyes scanned his face. “So far, I really can’t find any fault of that, as much as I may want to. Hell, I would’ve told you not to go and meet him by yourself, either.”

Roger’s jaw tightened. “Nice. Apparently I have two alphas in my life who think they can tell me what to do and that I somehow need their protection from Novak Djokovic.. The feeling is so amazing, I can’t even describe it.”

Andy frowned. “I wasn’t planning on telling you wha-” His eyes widened in sudden understanding, and Roger turned his head sideways, away from Andy’s shrewd gaze.

“So. Mirka told you not to go, but you still went. So,I guess Mirka wasn’t successful in telling you what to do? And that’s why you threw up?” At Roger’s sullen silence, he plowed on. “What if it was me telling you not to go? Would you react the same or maybe you simply wouldn’t go? Is that how this bond thing works between us? I’m sensing whatever you’re feeling and you can’t say no to me?” His fingers tightened on Roger’s waist slightly, involuntary. “That’s… well, I don’t know what to think about that.”

Roger raised his head, breathing heavily. Their faces were inches apart. “If that’s how this bond works, I don’t want any part of it!”

“So, otherwise you would want this bond? That’s news to me.”

Roger flushed.”That’s not what I meant!”

“What the fuck did you mean, then?!” Andy asked, exasperated and angry. “Do you even know?”

“Roger, Andy.”

Roger did a startled half-turn. Pierre was leaning against the gate, not a feet away from them. His face were grave. “I’ve been standing here for about a minute now.” He sighed. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, Roger. But I think you should come inside and I think Andy should go back to his hotel.”

The look Andy sent Pierre was not kind. “We were talking, here. I wouldn’t even be standing here if you had just told me what was going on.”

Pierre looked at Andy’s hands, still on Roger’s hips. smiled ruefully at the younger Alpha. “Yes, you would have. No matter what I would have said, you still would have come. Regradless. I don’t tend to chat about Roger’s personal life.”

Andy winced against the justice in that comment. He still had his hands on Roger’s hips, keeping him close, thumb doing rhythmic circles he wasn’t completely conscious of.

He looked at his hands, then at Roger, who had his lips bitten to hard it was bleeding. Roger tilted his head toward Pierre. “I’m coming. Just - give me a moment.”

Pierre frowned but he nodded, then disappeared behind the gate.

Roger waited till he was gone, then turned back to Andy, who was looking at him expectantly.

”Don’t ask me what I want or what I know, because I don’t have any answers, and for your information, when Mirka asks me those type of questions, she gets the same answers as you and she likes it even less.”

Andy grimaced. “Great. That’s reassuring. Maybe we could go have a drink together.”

“Maybe you should. You two can figure it out and get back to me.” Roger said the words wryly, but Andy cocked a brow. “You say it like it’s a joke, but I don’t think that you’re really joking.”

Roger shrugged miserably. “Obviously I’m not serious, but anything would be better than what I’m feeling right now. This sucks, and I just know that at the end, you would both hate me.”

Andy said nothing to that, and Roger’s smile turned bitter. “Right. Thanks for not sugar-coating the reality for me, I guess.” He swallowed. “I should go.” He didn’t move to get out of the close circle of Andy’s arms. His legs weren’t cooperating. He closed his eyes, flushed all over. “I really need you to let go first.”

Slowly, Andy let go of Roger’s hips. It felt like peeling off a band-aid stuck to a wound. They both grimaced at how that felt. “Shit.” Andy panted. “This can’t be normal.”

Roger’s mouth was dry, with a struggle, he moved away from the circle of Andy’s arms.

Andy bit his lip. “Right. Well, you got it right the first time. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. Other than getting burned time after time after time.” He shoved Roger backwards, hesitated for a moment, then turned and started walking away. After a few steps he paused, but didn’t turn, and kept on walking.

The moment Andy turned the corner, Roger’s knees crumbled. Pierre was next to Roger in a minute, to help him in.

Neither of them saw Andy, his face pale, leaning against the fence just around the corner, out of breath and clammy.

 


End file.
